


The Broken Queen

by Hope4thehopeless



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Robb and Sansa as Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope4thehopeless/pseuds/Hope4thehopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would the story be different if Stannis Baratheon had been pledged to Sansa Stark at the insistence of Robert Baratheon after the Rebellion? Would it change the decisions that sides made and undo fateful events?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! *waves furiously* I thought that I post this. I've been kicking it around for a while and I thought that I would share it here. 
> 
> This story explores the idea of how the Game of Thrones would be different if Sansa was Robb's twin and married to Stannis Baratheon. I won't give too much away, but I will tell you that there will be graphic scenes of abuse (from Joffery) and other things that some people may not like. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Leave a comment and I'll respond! 
> 
> Thanks!

**Prologue**

* * *

  _“…Say a prayer for peace_  
_for peace for our daughters and our sons_  
_Set our spirits free, set us free, let us lay down our arms_  
_Sweet Mother Mary, we're so tired_  
_But we can't come home_  
_No we can't come home 'til the last shots fired…”_

* * *

 

_284 AC..._

Eddard Stark stared at the newly minted King Robert I Baratheon and did his best not to frown. Not far from him, Stannis Baratheon looked as equally unhappy with the situation that was presented to them. The dinner that had held in the King's tent had been going quite well until Robert had opened his mouth and declared that the Houses Baratheon and Stark would be united by marriage. No one had mentioned such a thing before Robert had made such a declaration. No, the dinner had been about celebrating the end of the war and the news of Ned's children.

Four days prior, a letter had finally reached Ned from Riverrun that Catelyn had bore him twins, a boy and a girl. Both had dark heads of auburn colored hair and Tully blue eyes according to the letter penned by Lord Tully. By now, they would be five months old and he’d already missed so much. Ned wanted to fist his hair and kick Robert. He’d barely known about his daughter’s existence for four days and he was already planning to marry her off to the man that Robert wanted to align their houses. Ned knew what this was about. Robert wanted to be good-brothers. It had been his dream since they were boys. Ned couldn't fix the date or time that it had happened, but Robert had become fixated on the idea.

He wanted to be brothers with Ned. He wanted it so badly that he was willing to subject the five month old babe and his younger brother, Stannis, to a match that neither wanted and would likely ended up with both participants being miserable. Not for the first time, Ned desperately wanted to tell Robert the truth about Lyanna and her feelings. Feelings that she'd confessed to him while she'd laid dying. She'd known that Robert loved the idea of being Ned's brother than he actually loved her. Lyanna had seen it and she'd confessed every truth that she'd hidden in her soul to Ned as she'd coughed up her own blood. Her words were not something that he'd ever forget. He’d sworn to protect Lyanna's secrets, but keeping those secrets meant sacrificing his daughter’s happiness. It was an impossible situation and Ned hated every moment of it. The sound of Jon Arryn trying to reason with Robert brought Ned out of his thoughts and he was forced to pay attention to his king.

“It will happen!” Robert proclaimed and pounded his fist on the wooden table to emphasize his words.

Stannis visibly winced as the goblet of wine near him teetered and he reached for it as Robert grabbed his own and drowned the contents down. Jon Arryn looked annoyed at the childish display that Robert had made and Ned sympathized with the man. Robert had been different since he'd shown him the pine box that had carried Lyanna. Ned had planned to take his sister's body north and bury her with his father and brother. It was where she belonged and Ned briefly wondered if taking his daughter was Robert's twisted way of revenging himself against his refusal to allow Lyanna's body lay in King's Landing. Robert had planned a grand addition to Baelor's Sept to honor his lost love and he'd denied Robert that glory.

“Your Grace,” Ned intervened in a shaky voice. “If I do this, if I consent to this betrothal, Catelyn will not forgive me.”

“Since when have you ever cared about what a woman thinks?”

“Since I’ll be bringing my bastard back with me and I don’t think that she’ll agree to anything.”

Robert began back on his rant about joining the Houses of Baratheon and Stark. Jon Arryn gave him a sympathetic look and Ned shook his head. Robert refused to see reason and Catelyn would kill him. He was already bringing back a bastard to reside in her home. That, coupled with the news that he'd promised away the daughter he'd never met, would kill any chance of her caring for him. She had cared deeply for Brandon and Ned had felt dirty marrying and bedding her. He was surprised with the news that he'd become a father so soon, but he was glad of it. Marrying him so suddenly after Brandon's death had been difficult for Catelyn and reading the letter that told him that she was healthy and happy wither her children made the situation that Ned found himself terrible. It would make things more difficult than ever between them and he hated it. He hated Robert for what he was doing. For the first time, Ned realized just how selfish Robert could be and he disliked the king before him.

“She’s a babe,” Stannis said bluntly as he clasped his hands behind his back as Ned focused back on the conversation. Jon Arryn let huff of annoyance and stood with his body stiff from tension.

“By the time she’s of age to marry—“

“You’re going to marry her and that’s I’ll hear about the subject, Lord Stannis,” Robert snapped irritability as Ned tried to hold himself back from agreeing with the younger Baratheon. Stannis was twenty years Sansa's senior. The man was not an ideal match and even though Ned admired Stannis' courage and sense of honor, he didn't want the man for a good-son.

“Not another word," Robert continued in a threatening voice. "I summoned you here to tell you about your future wife. Not ask your permission! I am the king, dammit!”

Stannis narrowed his eyes at Robert and Ned felt pity for the younger man.

At twenty, Stannis was a stern young man, but he supposed that the man had to be stern. Robert was always far more occupied with woman, drinking, and fighting to care about actual governing. He left that to Stannis. While Robert had won the war, Ned wondered if perhaps Stannis would do more ruling than his brother. It wouldn't surprise him. Stannis was clever and well educated, but lacked the personal skills that Robert had. They were like two halves of a puzzle that wouldn't fit together. Robert had spent too much time teasing and bullying Stannis over his love of learning and books. Ned could see that now and knew that Stannis would not easily forgive Robert for the years of tortured that had been inflicted. Forcing him to marry Sansa would be the final offense and Stannis would never respect or forgive Robert...not that the older Baratheon deserved such a thing.

Marriage to Sansa...

The thought of his daughter on her back with Stannis Baratheon made him shiver violently and wince. The middle Baratheon brother was not who he’d envisioned his daughter marrying. Cat would probably murder him in his sleep, but he couldn’t reject Robert’s demand. They had won the damn war against the Crown and Ned wasn’t interested in starting another war because he wounded Robert’s pride by rejecting his proposition. The North needed him to return whole. Winter would be coming and they needed to prepare the people for the long, hard days. The war effort had depleted their resources. They had to rebuild and Ned needed to take his family back to Winterfell. There had been no Stark there for too long.

Covering his hands with his face, Ned pitied not only Stannis Baratheon, but his daughter. She’d have no say in her life. He’d take her north and she’d be taught how to be the Lady of Storm’s End and Princess of Dragonstone. Renly’s sudden death from grayscale had left Stannis holding two titles and lands that needed a strong leader. Sansa would have to be equally strong to be stand by Stannis’ side. He’d have to shape into being strong…both he and Catelyn.

“I agree to the match,” Ned said softly after a moment. “If Lord Stannis will have my daughter, I give him permission to marry Lady Sansa.”

All eyes in the tent turned towards Stannis and a scowl darkened his features as he engaged in a staring contest with his older brother. Ned didn’t know if Stannis would yield on such an issue, but he agreed after a few minutes of silence. Jon Arryn look darkly at Robert before sitting back down. He looked displeased with the turn of events as Ned felt. Stannis scowled at the goblet of wine as if it had begun speaking vile, offensive words to him.

“Wonderful!” Robert boomed, the only man in the tent that was happy. “The girl will flower and then you’ll marry her, Lord Stannis.”

The thought of his young daughter marrying a man twenty years her senior made Ned’s stomach turn.

Stannis paled at the thought of bedding a girl who’d just flowered and Ned didn’t blame his future good-son. He had no interest in bedding a girl who's body wasn't a woman's...an innocent girl who knew nothing of the world and how to be a wife, a girl who would know even less about how to be a lover. Cat was barely fifteen and he hardly considered her old enough to be a mother. Ned had hoped to at least be married a few years before prevailing upon her to bare him children. The Gods had had other plans. He couldn't say that he wasn't happy about his children, but life hadn't turned out how he'd envisioned it when he'd stood in the Godswood with Catelyn and pledged himself to her.

“Fifteen,” Ned interjected quietly. “Sansa will be fifteen when she marries Stannis and not a day younger or I won't consent to the match.”

For once, Stannis and Ned agreed on something and the younger man nodded in agreement. Relief was evident in his eyes that he wouldn't have to take a child to bed.

“I second such a request,” Jon Arryn spoke up. “Lady Sansa will marry Lord Stannis when she’s fifteen and you’ll have your Houses united as you wish, Your Grace.”

“With any luck," Robert gruffed as he refilled his wine glass. "Cersei Lannister will do her duty and give me sons, I expect your son to marry one of my daughters and your second daughter to marry my son, Ned.”

Ned faintly nodded in agreement before realizing that he’d not only promised his daughter away, but his son as well. Never had he questioned his wits and of all the days to feel like he'd lost them, that night had been the worst.

Catelyn would kill him.

She’d make what the Lannister had done to Elia Martell and her child look like child’s play.

Swallowing hard, he looked at a irritable Stannis Baratheon, who quickly excused himself. The young man wasn’t impressed or happy at all with the situation that they’d found themselves in, but there was very little anyone could do now without damaging their honor.

Catelyn would not take this well, Ned decided before he drowned his own goblet of wine.

She'd kill them all if given the chance.


	2. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment! See the note below!

**Part I: Runaway**

* * *

_"…I saw a face in the sand_  
_But when I picked it up_  
_Then it vanished away from my hands…”_

* * *

_Sixteen Years Later..._

_September, 299 AC_  

Stannis rode quietly next to Prince Joffery and ignored the boy as he bragged to the Hound about some girl he’d fucked in the last village. Not for the first time, he supposed his nephew could do with a good beating. The boy was spoiled by his mother and had a streak for cruelty that ran wide and deep. Robert chose to ignore it and Cersei nurtured it believing that it would make her boy a great king. It was a laughable idea that Joffery would ever make a good king. With the right advisers and some self-restraint, he might make a half-way decent king, but never a great one. A messenger rode up the column with a letter in his hand. Stannis glared at the young boy for interrupting his thoughts as boy held out the letter and he snatched it.

“Where from?” Stannis growled impatiently.

“From Storm’s End, My Lord,” the boy said timidly.

Staring at the hand writing on the front, Stannis stuffed the letter into his doublet for later. His mind was too preoccupied with his upcoming nuptials to think about what news had come up from the south. He damned Robert for dragging him to the north to be married with winter coming. The last harvest season had been less productive than many had hoped and with Robert’s incurred debts, Stannis was being forced to pay off some of the debts to the Iron Bank. It left him in a tight financial situation and the late Jon Arryn had repeated apologized for putting Stannis in such a situation, but defaulting on loans would result in the Iron Bank backing their enemies. It was something that they could not afford to let happen. The sad truth was that no one could control Robert and while the king drank and whored his days away, it left men like himself and the late Jon Arryn to figure out exactly how to pay down the debts that Robert created. The Gods only knew that Robert owed the Lannisters a kingdom and a half.

It had been originally planned that he’d marry Sansa Stark the year before, but Daenerys Targaryen had ruined such plans. Robert’s vulgar insistence that Stannis could make do with his hand for one more year before marrying Lady Sansa had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Word had come from the east about her and her brother having survived the rebellion. Robert, infuriated by her survival, had demanded her head on a spike. His demands had prevented the court from travelling north to Winterfell and instead of celebrating a wedding, Robert had presented his court with the Targaryen girl’s head as well as her brother’s. A week of feasting and tournaments had marked the occasion. Stannis nearly flinched when he thought about the number of coins that Robert had wasted on such an occasion. He’d seen the girl’s head and he’d been reminded of Sansa. The two were within a year of each other and Daenerys had looked like a child. Fear had been frozen on her face and it had twisted Stannis’ gut. The whole damn thing had been a complete waste, but what Robert wanted, he got.

On the horizon, he could see the growing form of Winterfell. Within an hour, they’d be at the gates. Within an hour, he’d see his bride, a bride that he should have had over a year ago. It felt like Robert had enjoyed torturing him over the last few years. Every time he’d been summoned to see Robert, his brother had a whore on his lap and he’d tempt Stannis to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. Robert would encourage him to touch her or something and so far, Stannis had resisted, but his resolve had steadily weakened. He’d entered his honor into an engagement and unlike his brother, Stannis valued honor. Before the betrothal, he’d had a lover or two, but Robert seemed to enjoy rubbing in the fact that it had been a very long time since he’d been with a woman.

“They say she looks like her whore aunt, Lyanna,” Joffery snorted and Stannis moved his sharp gaze over to his nephew.

Joffery with his golden hair was a Lannister. The little shit was simply all talk and the moment a sword was drawn, he quaked in his boots like boy. Robert took little interest in his children and as a result, they’d grown up coddled and spoiled by their Lannister mother. 

“I’m sure that Lady Arya is very pretty,” the Hound said dutifully as he looked onward.

“As long as I can fuck her, I’ll be happy.”

It took all of Stannis’ self control not to hit his nephew. Robert wouldn’t do, but Stannis was more than ready to. Gripping his reigns tightly, Ser Davos Seaworth trotted up next to him with a look of curiosity on his face.

“Less than an hour,” Davos commented as they both stared at the imposing castle that was not far away.

“Yes,” Stannis replied through gritted teeth. “An hour and I will see her.”

“They say that she’s quite the beauty.”

“They say both of Lord Stark's daughters are beauties. Beauty means very little to me, Ser Davos.”

“Aye, but it does make some duties easier than others. The best thing that you can do is get to know her a little. Show her that you want to know about her and her life. It will go a long way in easing this new period into your life and hers as well. It’s hard to do your duty with a woman that you know nothing about.”

Stannis shot a dark look at the former sailor, but the man grinned back. For as long as Stannis had known Davos, the man had known about his betrothal to Ned Stark’s daughter. Davos had suggested writing to her, but Stannis always brushed off the idea. Writing letters would be a waste of time. It didn’t matter that they cared for each other or knew each other. Sansa would be his wife whether or not he consented. They had one duty before them and that was to provide sons to continue the Baratheon line and raise those sons well. Stannis refused to raise boys that would end up like Robert or Joffery. No, he intended to have honorable sons who’d do their duty and know what was expected of them. He wouldn’t settle for anything less. The only thing that he required of Sansa Stark was to birth him heirs and beyond that, he didn’t care what she did in her time away from him as long as she didn’t spend his coin too generously and kept her legs closed to other men.

“I don’t think that she’ll like the sound of you grinding your teeth,” Davos spoke up and Stannis stopped. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been doing it and scowled at the Onion Knight. Ignoring those around him as they drew closer to Winterfell, his stomach was twisted in knots and he resisted the urge to force his horse into a gallop back towards Storm’s End. If he was nervous and uncertain, it was his own fault. He’d had sixteen years to prepare himself for this moment. He was honor bound to marry Sansa Stark and he would not be his brother. He would not go back on his word and compromise his honor. During his final days alive, Jon Arryn had urged him to do his duty and that was exactly what Stannis was prepared to do. Winterfell grew bigger until they were trotting up the dirt road with eyes following their every movement.

Once through the gates of Winterfell, Stannis’ gazed moved to Ned and the two figures to the Lord of Winterfell's left. Neither the boy nor the girl's lips barely moved, but Stannis could see that from the corners of their mouths a conversation was taking place between them. Robb looked exceptionally annoyed and Sansa looked…he had no words to describe her. He’d never seen her before and he’d only ever pictured her as a child. It was as if his mind refused to accept that she’d be grown after so many years. He always pictured her with gangling limbs and resembling her half-crazed aunt, Lysa Arryn. He hadn’t expected her to be so beautiful. At sixteen, she wasn’t a girl. She had the face of a woman with kissable lips and dark auburn hair that was pulled back to reveal a slender neck. Tully blue eyes never wavered from the gates as she watched the royal procession come through with a serene expression on her face that was the opposite of her twin's.

Next to him, Joffery smirked a little at her, but she never saw it and he tightened his grip on the reigns. Robert’s heir was a lecherous little shit and he wouldn’t stand for the boy to disrespect the family. Standing beside Lady Sansa was a dark haired girl that hauntingly reminded Stannis of Lyanna Stark. The girl possessed the same dark hair and eyes that had enchanted Robert all those years ago. If he remembered correctly, there was a four year age gap between Ned’s twins and the twelve year old, Arya. Next to Arya was Bran, the second oldest son, and standing next to Lady Stark was Rickon. He hardly remembered the ages of the younger boys, but he’d heard news through Robert of Ned’s increasing family throughout the years.

Robert was the last person to trot into the bailey behind the wheelhouse that carried the queen and her two younger children. Ned was the first to kneel and his household followed suit with Robb offering Sansa his arm as they knelt down next to one another. It made Stannis wonder at their relationship. Was it possible that all twins were like the Lannisters? He would not stand to take a deflowered girl to his bed and he certainly would not take an incestuous whore as his wife. He vowed to himself that he would closely watch Eddard Stark's children before he consented to marrying. Robert was idiot, but Stannis would not fall into the same trap that his brother had. 

A box was brought forth for Robert and he watched with thinly veiled disgust as the king heaved himself off the horse and down the box. He waddled determinedly towards Ned and motioned for his friend to stand. Everyone moved and Sansa’s hand never wavered from its position on Robb’s arm as they stood. Once on their feet, her hand slipped away from her twin as Robert examined Ned for a full moment while the courtyard waited anxiously. 

“You got fat!” Robert blurted out and Stannis’ eyes shot up to the sky to prevent himself from pointing out the obvious fact to his older brother that the only one who’d physically changed was him. Feasting, drinking, and wenching did not benefit one’s physical appearance in anyway. Instead of devoting time each day to the tiltyard, Robert overslept and drank to his heart’s content. A smile came to Ned’s face and he gestured to Robert’s belly. Laughter broke out and his eyes darted to his future bride. Both she and twin looked less than amused at the situation that had unfolded. Her hands were clasped in front of her with black gloves and white furs were draped around her shoulders. Her grey cloak pooled around her feet and obscured his view of her form.

“You must be Robb,” Robert said with a grin as he clasped the young man on the shoulder. “A strong husband you’ll make for my Myrcella.”

Robb looked slightly uncomfortable as Robert moved onto Sansa, “Aren’t you a pretty thing? You’ll be my sister soon enough. I plan to have Stannis married to you within the next fortnight. A feast the night before and a feast for your wedding.”

“Your Grace,” she murmured as she looked to the ground and ignored Robert’s lecherous grin. Her voice sounded clear like a harp and Stannis dismounted his horse, ready to challenge Robert if he became inappropriate. Robert’s eyes drifted a moment too long over Sansa’s form before he moved over to the young girl and frowned. He regarded Arya Stark for a moment with a glazed expression that Stannis had seen before. He was no fool and he’d heard plenty of whores complain about Robert calling them by the wrong name. Lyanna tormented his brother from the beyond and it was impossible for him understand how Robert simply couldn’t let the woman go. Stannis was not all together convinced that Lyanna had been kidnapped by the Rhaegar.

In fact, Stannis suspected that Ned had lied to Robert to spare his brother’s feelings and prevent more war from breaking out between the kingdoms.

“Lyanna,” Robert said and the whole household froze. A stillness in the air became present as everyone waited for what Robert would do next. it was the girl herself who looked up at the king with a defiant expression on her face.

“Arya, Your Grace,” the young girl corrected. “Lyanna is my dead aunt.”

A dark, angry look crossed Robert’s face for a moment before he turned away. His older brother didn’t like be corrected. Having kept back long enough, Stannis moved forward when it became clear that Robert wasn’t going to say anything more to Lady Arya Stark.

“Lord Stark, Lady Stark,” Stannis said dutifully with his hands clasped behind his back. Catelyn curtseyed and Ned bowed his head. Stannis couldn’t stop himself from looking towards Sansa again. Her Tully blue eyes were trained on him, but her features gave nothing away. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to meet him or if she was afraid. An unfriendly looked crossed her twin’s face as Robb looked at him, but Stannis suspected that the boy was overprotective of his sister. Hearing noises behind him, Stannis looked to see Cersei Lannister and her brats stepping down from the wheelhouse. Before he could say anything, Robert interrupted.

“Ned, take me to your crypts!” he boomed. “I want to pay my respects. Then we can talk about finally marrying my brother and your daughter. I've waited long enough to see our houses united.”

“We’ve been riding for a month, my love,” Cersei said in a delicate tone as she stood before Lady Stark. “Surely, the dead can wait a little while longer as can the wedding plans?”

Robert gave her an furious glare before signaling for Ned to follow him. With a reluctant look at Lady Stark and Lady Sansa, Ned followed as Catelyn Stark quickly took hold of the uncomfortable situation. She saw to it that Cersei and her children would be shown to their rooms and attended to by servants. Stannis trailed behind. His mind worked over time as he seethed with rage.

Was nothing sacred to his brother?

Tradition dictated that it would be Lady Stark who would determine the date upon which her daughter would marry, not Robert. Standing still, Stannis watched as Sansa dutifully followed the Queen and her mother. On the threshold to the great hall, she looked over her shoulder and his grey eyes met her blue ones.

He looked away quickly and moved to follow Robert and Ned to the crypts in any attempt to get his brother to see reason. He didn’t want to spend any time in Lady Sansa's company. He was meant to marry her, bed her, and that was it. He had no other responsibility except to protect her and ensure that his seed filled her womb as often as possible. Nothing more and nothing less, Stannis told himself sternly. He wouldn’t let Robert make a fool out of him. He’d let his older brother do that enough times growing up and he wasn’t going to allow it to happen at his wedding of all places.

* * *

In the time leading up to their wedding, Stannis was unable to find a single moment alone with his betrothed. Often, he was in the same room with her, but they were always surrounded by people. The welcoming feast at sundown on the day of their arrival had proved to be a nightmare. Robert was drunk before the end of the third course and was groping women by the end of the fifth. While her mother kept close to the queen and the royal family, Lady Sansa had played the role of diligent host to the king's court. By the end of the night, Robert could barely stand up straight and it had taken several men to drag the king to his bed. It had been an unpleasant task that Stannis had overseen and resented. He'd spent most of the night establishing what he would say to Lady Sansa the first time he spoke with her and he'd been most unhappy to return to the hall to find Lady Stark overseeing the clean up of the feast. His betrothed was no where to be found and her mother had confirmed his theory that she'd gone off to bed. 

Since that night, he'd been torn between wanting to speak with Sansa before the wedding and wanting to ignore her. The logical part of him said that it would make his future easier if he took time to speak with her, but something held him back and he observed her instead when the opportunity arose. Sansa seemed to be a productive person which he approved of and his fears about her relationship with her brother were lessened everyday. While Catelyn Stark was apt at keeping the Queen and her children busy, Sansa oversaw the keep and the needs of the king’s court. She was efficient in organizing the servants when needed and oversaw the preparations for their wedding feast with the ease of a woman who’d organized hundreds of feasts before. He was also happy to know that she paid close attention to the cost of items. Several times, she’d rejected various plans simply based on the expense and proposed different ideas to circumnavigate the problem that had presented itself before her. He could not deny that he was impressed by her. She was everything that he imagined a proper lady to be and unlike her younger sister, Sansa was accomplished in being a proper lady.

When Robb Stark wasn’t with his father or in the tiltyard, he seemed to keep a close eye on his twin sister. However, nothing about their relationship had any sexual tones or overtures that he'd become aware of between Cersei and Jamie Lannister. No, Robb appeared to be as dutiful a brother. What intrigued Stannis the most about their relationship was how protective Robb Stark became over his sisters when Joffery was around. His nephew had taken to stalking both Stark girls and did not take kindly to being ignored. Sooner or later, Joffery's temper would get the best of him and Robb Stark must have sensed it for neither sister was far from his sight. 

Having required privacy to write a letter to his steward at Dragonstone, Stannis had asked Lady Catelyn where he might find such a place and she’d given him use of her private study. It was a small nook, but it was warm and well lit by a hearty fire. Warmth was the one thing that he’d found surprising about Winterfell. Everywhere that he went, the castle was warm and inviting. It wasn't a cold, snake pit like King's Landing. After only an hour of working, he looked up when he heard voices.

“Oh, I don’t need you to follow me around like a watch dog,” Sansa hissed just outside the nook.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Robb defended in a gruff voice. “I’m trying to be a good brother and keep you safe.”

“Who is that you don’t like this time? Theon?”

“Joffery Baratheon.”

“He’s a little boy who is desperately trying to act like a man and it's failing. Beside, why should I care about him? Why should you care about him? What is he to me? In a few days he'll be my nephew and I'll continue to ignore his overtures as I have.”

“I don't like the way he looks at you and Arya."

"How does he look at us?"

"He looks at you and her like a direwolf looks at a meal.”

“If you’re so worried about him, follow Arya around. Not me,” she snapped. “It’s annoying and you get in the way of my duties.”

“I do not!”

“Don’t you have an arrow to shoot or something? Go and leave me alone, Robb. I plan to meet with mother about the accounts and I promise you that Joffery Baratheon won't show up to such a boring meeting.”

For a moment silence followed until the sounds of boots on stone met his ears. Sansa let out a shaky sigh and turned the corner into Catelyn’s study. She looked up and was surprised to see him sitting at the desk with a quill in his hand. Quickly, she schooled her features and walked forward. Had he not heard the fight, Stannis wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to fight with anyone.

“My Lord,” she said softly before bobbing a quick curtsy.

“Lady Sansa,” he acknowledged uncomfortably.

He stared at the swan like neck that was now fully visible to him. He’d wanted to be with her alone to ascertain exactly who she was, but now that he was alone, Stannis wasn’t sure what to say or do. The words he'd planned to speak to her had vanished from his mind and he scowled. She clasped her hands in front of her skirts and he examined her. The grey cloak that she’d worn when he’d first arrived had hidden from view the curves that she possessed. Today, her gown reveled more than her previous gowns had and he could understand Robb Stark’s protectiveness. High breasts, a narrow waist, and delightfully rounded hips were his observations about Sansa’s form. It was no wonder that his bastard nephew looked at her like a meal to be eaten. An image of taking her over the desk came to his mind and his scowl deepened as he mentally berated himself for his thoughts. Yes, it had been far too long since he'd had a woman, however, she was a lady and she was to be his wife. Sansa was not a common whore that was meant to be leered at like his brother did constantly.

“Have I interrupted you, milord?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he said in a clipped tone as he did his best to reign in his desire. He clasped his hands behind his back and squeezed his wrist as hard as he could. The pain broke the spell that she was casting on him, but his desire was not abating. Oh yes, it had been a too long since he’d been with a woman and the thought of seeing Sansa Stark naked was almost too overwhelming to his senses. He’d be her husband in a day and by right, he’d be allowed to gaze upon her body all he liked.

“I apologize,” she said quickly with a frown. “I just came for the account books to show my mother. There won't be time after tomorrow.”

He swallowed hard at the reminder that they would be married soon. Stannis stepped back from the desk that he’d been working at and she hurried forward. He clenched his jaw tightly as he watched her gather up the account book that she needed. An uncomfortable silence was developing between them and he couldn’t stand it. Perhaps, Davos was right. How was he to successfully bed a woman that he knew nothing about? It had been done, but it wouldn't be satisfactory to either of them. He knew how to pleasure himself. The gods only knew how many times over the years he'd given himself pleasure, but tomorrow night would be the first time he laid with Sansa.

Would it hurt to speak with her before they did their duty?   

“Do you like to read?” Stannis found himself asking briskly. Immediately, he wanted to bite his own tongue off. Sansa looked up at him with wide blue eyes, she nodded. Holding the account book tightly, spots of red appeared on her cheeks.

“I do, my lord,” she murmured as she looked at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

“I hope you don’t like fairy tales.”

She frowned at him and for the second time in as many minutes and Stannis wanted to hit himself. She’d think him rude for saying such a thing, but the truth was that he didn’t want a wife who believed in fairy tales. Fairy tales were for children and they always gave away a happy ending. Life was not a fairy tale in his experience. He hoped, not for the first time, that she could differ between the reality of their situation and a fairy tale. He wasn’t a handsome knight that would come and save her. He wasn’t even sure that he could love her. In fact, Stannis wasn’t sure if he could love anyone. He didn’t believe himself capable of such deep emotions. Duty and responsibility were the only two things that mattered to him, everything else simply secondary.

“I read them occasionally to my younger siblings before bed,” Sansa admitted in a cautious tone as she watched him carefully. 

“What do you normally read?” he asked again in the same brisk tone as before and she seemed to accept that his manners would not improve.

“History, any kind of history, I enjoy.”

He could only nod at her and appreciate her honest answer. She shifted her weight on her feet and for the first time, Stannis realized just how petite she was. Sansa was taller than most girls her age that he'd met. The top of her head came to rest about the middle of his throat. Her frame did have curves, but she was thin with a frail sort of beauty about her that he had a hard time describing. He imagined that she was what celestial beings looked like. As a boy, his mother's stories about beautiful beings in the heavens had always intrigued him. He imagined Sansa looked like all the beauty, poise, and grace his mother had attempted to describe. The sound of her voice brought him back done from the heavens. 

“And you, my lord? What do you like to read?”

“Naval strategy,” he said stiffly. He was growing uncomfortable with the situation. People didn’t ask him what he liked to read and if they did listen to him, they usual wanted to curry favor with him to get something they wanted. 

“A wise choice, my lord.”

He searched her face for insincerity. He’d been played a fool enough times by Robert, but he didn’t see what he was searching for. Instead, she wore a slightly hopeful expression on her face. She waited for his response, but Stannis had none to give her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he snapped as a scowl marred his face. She visibly flinched at his harsh words, bobbed a curtsey, and fled the nook without another word. Stannis watched her go with a myriad of questions and thoughts floating around his head. For the whole afternoon, his concentration was shot to pieces and he blamed her for it. He kept replaying the conversation over and over again in his head. He’d never been good a speaking with ladies.  The last girl he'd let inside had been a mistake. Robert had paid Lady Selyse Florent in their younger years to pretend to like him and it was perhaps the cruelest of all jokes that Robert had ever played. Stannis flushed angrily as he felt the pangs of humiliation rise up again in his belly as he recalled several of Robert's friends and Lady Selyse's laughing at him. He could still remember Robert's laughter as his older brother enjoyed retelling the story of his humiliation to their household over and over again after the death of their parents. The unpleasant burn of humiliation fueled Stannis' resolve. 

He wasn’t going to let Lady Sansa humiliate and hurt him the way Lady Selyse had. He couldn't bare to go through such pain, but he decided that a few words at the feast wouldn’t hurt him. She’d been interested in history and it was good to know that she didn’t read fairy tales or believe them. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor. He’d never been and he never would be.

* * *

He sat next to Sansa during the feast, but she was quiet. Taking an occasional sip of wine throughout the five course meal, she was overly polite with him when she was forced to speak. He’d known earlier that his brisk manner had hurt her feelings and her politeness was to prevent him from hurting her again. He was not as social inept as people believed him to be. He was far better at reading people then others thought and he could tell when someone was lying to him or attempting to use him. It was the one skill that Robert had helped him develop over the years and Stannis supposed that he should have been grateful to his older brother. His manners were not refined or polished like Sansa’s, but he recalled Davos’ advice from earlier. Showing that he wanted to know about her would go a long way in easing the future discomforts that were bound to happen between them.

Swearing to himself that he would do his duty and try not to be too rude, Stannis cleared his throat.

“What is your favorite period of history?”

Sansa turned and looked at him with a hint of weariness in her eyes before she covered it.

“I don't have a particularly favorite period. However, I do like to read about Essos,” she admitted with a hint of a smile on her lips. “It interests me. I suppose that we don’t have the identical systems of government as they do nor the same laws. They seem wild in their ways, but they interest me all the same. What do like about naval books?”

“I think that being the commander of the navy means knowing all the tactical strategies at one’s disposal.”

“Do you like sailing? I’ve never seen the sea.”

He raised an eyebrow at her confession, “You’ve never seen it?”

“No, but I’d like to. My mother tells me that your seat, Storm’s End, is right on Durran’s Point on the northern coast of Shipbreaker Bay.”

“That’s true. We are right on the sea.”

“Is it warm?”

“Sometimes.”

“Not all the time?”

“Storms can bring in cold air,” Stannis admitted in a gruff voice. “The mornings can be a bit chilly, but a fire will warm anyone’s bones. It’s not as cold as it is here in the North and I imagine that the south will seem exceptionally warm to you.”

“And your second seat? Dragonstone?”

“A desolate island in the middle of the sea that I only visit when needed. It’s not a place for a lady of your rank to be.”

Sansa nodded in understanding as she picked up her goblet and took another sip.

“Have you ever left Winterfell?” Stannis asked believing that he already knew the answer.

“No,” Sansa told him with a shake of her head. “Leaving with you shall be my first adventure south.”

Before he could respond, the sound of Robert’s laughter reached their ears. Sansa looked on with mild disgust as Robert buried his face into one of the serving girl’s breasts. The girl, who couldn’t have been much older than Arya, blushed and quickly tried to extract herself from the situation.

“Is this normal behavior for the king?” she asked quietly. She looked slightly put off by such a display as did her mother a few seats down from her.

“Yes,” Stannis replied through gritted teeth as he watched his brother’s disgusting behavior.

“I expect that I’ll have to pay her a few extra pieces of gold at the end of the evening,” Sansa commented as she put her goblet of wine down. “She won’t take kindly to being molested by the king. Does he ever visit you at Storm’s End?”

“No. I reside in the capital when he has need for me. He won’t be a guest in my halls. I assure that he wouldn’t bestow that honor upon me.”

Sansa nodded again as music began to play. Her eyes brightened a little and Stannis saw Robb Stark stand up from the table where he’d been drinking with several other young men. The younger man made to cross the hall towards them.

“Do you dance, Lord Baratheon?” Sansa asked with a hopeful tone in her voice.

“No,” Stannis said with narrowed eyes as he watched Robb. “If you wish to, by all means, don’t let me detain you from dancing.”

Sansa quickly excused herself as Robb presented himself for dancing with her. He offered his arm and she took it without question. He watched with rapt interest as she danced. Her gown shimmered in the fire light when she twirled through a set and her steps were graceful. She wasn’t a woman who gave too much away, Stannis decided after the third dance. She danced with her twin, father, and her uncle before moving back to the great table to sit near her mother. Sansa showed restraint in her smiles and laughs, but appeared to genuinely enjoy the art of dancing. Sensing Davos was near, Stannis watched as the chair that Sansa had been occupying was taken by the man he thought of as a brother.

“I saw that you talked with her. How’d that go?”

“We spoke of books,” Stannis said. His eyes never wavered from watching Sansa’s form several seats away. Her hair looked darker in the dim lighting of the hall and he wondered just what it felt like. It took him several minutes to fight the urge to walk over and touch it like some green boy who’d just discovered that women were beautiful. The truth that Stannis grudgingly admitted to was that Sansa Stark was nice and had several qualities that he could see himself possibly admiring in the future. The thought caused his stomach to twist painfully. Their union wasn't being allowed because they caring for each other or anything else along those lines. Their union was because Robert demanded their houses be united and that would happen through the creation of heirs. That was all their marriage was to be about. Feelings didn’t factor into the equation that Robert had created. Feelings would get in the way and create a weakness that Stannis could not tolerate.

“And?” Davos prompted with a raised brow.

“She likes history.”

“She’ll love the library at Storm’s End.”

“She asked me what I liked.”

“That seems to be the general response in a conversation,” Davos grinned as if the whole situation was amusing. “You can’t deny that she is indeed very pretty.”

“Pretty women are dangerous. They think that they can use their looks to get whatever they want.”

“You don’t believe that about her. I’ve seen you watching her. You've been looking for faults and I’d wager that you haven’t found many faults in her.”

“She’s—“

“Attractive,” Davos interrupted as Stannis narrowed his eyes. “A very pretty girl who’s going to be your bride tomorrow and by tomorrow night, she’ll be in your bed.”

“I was going to say that she has to have faults. I refuse to believe that she doesn’t have some bad bone in her body or something wrong with her. All women do. There's no such thing as a perfect female.”

Davos’ eyes widened slightly before he laughed, “There will be no winning with you! Don’t let her hear you say that.”

* * *

It was late after the feast when Stannis went searching for Ned. There had been very few chances to speak to the man in private and Stannis intended to speak with Ned before turning into sleep. There were more important matters to discuss besides weddings and Robert's drinking. The man wasn’t hard to find and knocking on his study door, Stannis heard the muffled sound of Ned’s voice bidding him to enter. Ned looked up when he opened the door and Stannis paused. He was sitting in front of the fire with a tired expression on his face. Ned made to stand, but Stannis waved him off.

“Lord Baratheon.”

“Lord Stark,” he replied as he moved to stand near the fire. The room was slightly chilly and a northern chill was enough to kill a man.

“I’m surprised at finding you awake,” Ned commented as he settled back down in his chair, a goblet of wine in his hands. “I thought that everyone would have been asleep by now. You are getting married tomorrow. It’ll be a long, tiring day.”

“Some people cannot sleep and I am one of them.”

“That makes two. Is there something that I can help you with?”

“Tomorrow, the bedding ceremony—“

“Oh, there will be no bedding ceremony,” Ned chuckled darkly as he gazed into the fire. “I told Robert as much before the feast while he could still remember my words. I’m not sure who’d break someone’s nose first, me or Robb. My son has always been protective of Sansa. Ever since they were little and could first walk, they’re two parts of a whole and they’ve never been separated. I told Robert that he’d just have to make do with the maids parading around the bed sheets in the morning and leave it at that. I know that neither you nor my daughter will like it, but it’s the compromise that I made with him to stop noses from being broken at your wedding feast.”

“It’s a good deal,” Stannis replied as his lips quirked into what could almost be described as an amused smile. 

“It’s the only deal that Robert was willing to make.”

“Lock our chamber doors,” he added as he sat down in the chair across from Ned. “Robert would drunkenly bed a woman in my marriage bed if he could and call it a funny joke. I wouldn’t want to dishonor your daughter in such a way.”

Ned nodded in agreement, but gaze into the fire, “When did it become so bad?”

“When did what become bad?”

“Robert’s drinking and whoring.”

“It’s always been bad,” Stannis scoffed in disgust. “Your sister was a distraction for him. I think that he believed that he loved her, but he would have betrayed her in the end. My brother thinks that life is about feasting, whoring, and drinking. He's always been that way.”

Ned chuckled and brought the goblet of wine back up to his lips, “I suppose you’re right. I just ignored it. ”

Both men sat quietly and gazed at the fire. Stannis had always respected Ned. They were not close, but he respected Ned’s sense of honor and integrity. A trait that he’d clearly seen in all of Ned’s children and one that he hoped was passed onto future generations.

“There is something of a most serious nature that I would speak with you about,” he said quietly after a few minutes. His gaze lingered on the door before he turned and looked pointedly at Ned. Understanding him, Ned nodded and stood.

“A walk,” he proclaimed as he put his goblet of wine down. “You can come and see for yourself where you’ll be married tomorrow.”

Willingly, Stannis followed Ned out the door. He managed to grab his heavy cloak from his chambers before meeting Ned in the front hall. With only a torch to guide them, Stannis followed Ned into the woods. The Godswood was some distance from the castle and the frigid night air felt like little daggers piercing his skin. He could see his breath as they walked along and every so often, he’d look over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t being followed. The moon was full in the sky above them and hundreds of stars twinkled like diamonds as Ned doused the torch in the small pond near the heart tree. There was more than enough moonlight to see around the area. 

“Jon Arryn did not die from a fever,” Stannis began quietly. “I think he was murdered by the Lannisters. That is what I have to tell you.”

Ned frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest to keep warm, “Lannisters? What are you talking about?”

“Arryn died from poison, not fever. I have a man in King’s Landing who has been discreetly looking into matters for me and he believes that poison, not fever, caused Arryn’s death.”

He handed Ned the letter that he’d received from Davos’ son and let his soon-to-be goodfather hold up the note and pour over the contents of the note in the moonlight. The frown Ned wore deepened with every passing line that he read.

“Why would the Lannisters want to kill Jon?” he asked as he handed the letter back.

“Because before I left to come here, Jon and I were conducting an investigation into Robert’s bastards,” Stannis said simply. “They all have black hair, yet not one of my brother’s trueborn children has black hair. People used to say that to be a Baratheon, one had to have black hair.”

“You’re suggesting that Joffery, Tommen, and Mrycella aren’t Robert’s trueborn children?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have proof?”

“I have a letter written by Arryn saying that he planned to confront Robert and Cersei with the truth shortly before he died. As you can imagine, that confrontation never happened. Jon Arryn was dead a week later. I don’t have definitive proof yet, but I am certain that Robert’s children are not his. They’re to…Lannister to be Baratheon. Have you ever noticed how much Tommen resembles Jamie Lannister?”

“Do you suspect who could be the father?”

“No, but I advise against taking the position of the Hand. It’s dangerous in the south. Once I marry your daughter, I plan to retreat to Storm’s End and prepare for the winter. I’ll let my man in King’s Landing continue to investigate the situation.”

“I already told Robert that I accept the position.”

“Then change your mind and refuse the position. The Lannisters will kill you, Eddard. They have all the power now. Robert owes them a bloody kingdom and a half. The Gods know that I’ve been paying his debts to the Iron Bank for the past year at the urging of Jon Arryn. My brother has made a colossal mess and the Lannisters control him. You should keep north and protect yourself. The only reason that I’ve told you this is because I know that Jon was your friend and you looked up to him. I thought that you should know how he died.”

“I can’t turn my back away from this and you know it. It’s already been decided that Arya will go to King’s Landing with me,” Ned sighed heavily. “Perhaps while I am there I can find you the evidence that you and Jon were looking for. We can correct this wrong and find out if Jon Arryn died because he knew that Robert’s children are bastards. Besides, this is all my fault.”

“How?” Stannis demanded hotly.

“Lyanna. Robert’s been lovesick over her since the day he met her. The truth is that my sister never loved him. She was flattered by his attention, but she never loved him and I doubt that he ever truly loved her. I think that he was in love with the idea of her and fighting for her. I’ve had years to think about what happened. Truthfully, Rhaegar didn’t kidnap my sister. Lyanna was always…she ways had a wild streak about her. A rebellious streak that Arya inherited and she willingly left with the prince. I found her in the Tower of Joy. She was dying and I…I took a vow to keep her secrets from Robert. She confessed everything to me before she gave me her bastard son."

“Jon is her bastard, isn't he?”

“Yes, and I have passed him off as my own son for all these years. If Robert ever found out the truth about Lyanna and Rhaegar…”

“He’d kill Jon Snow,” Stannis scoffed. “He’d plunge the kingdoms into another war over a woman that he never stood a chance with.”

“You can see now why this is my fault. Perhaps Robert would have been a better king if he knew the truth about my sister and stopped pining for a dead woman who never loved him,” Ned sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “I made a vow to keep Lyanna’s secrets and I regret everyday that I did.”

“Telling him wouldn’t change a damn thing. Robert will always be a less than worthy king because my brother chooses to be a less than worthy king. Telling him the truth would only make matters worse and my coffers can’t afford anymore debts to the Iron Bank.”

Ned solemnly looked at his reflection in the water, “Winter is coming, Lord Baratheon.”

“Yes, and it will be a nasty winter, Lord Stark.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Yes, this is a longer one. I had about 7500 in word and most chapters will be about 7000-10000 words. I hope that things made a bit more sense in terms of ages and such. If things didn't, please let me know and I will make corrections. This chapter for some reason just didn't feel right to me...anyways, I did decide to add some months/date to follow. I know this is not traditionally done, but for my sanity, I needed it. I also plan to try and update this story every Sunday!
> 
> Who is ready for a wedding and a wedding night?


	3. Hypnotic

  **Part II: Hypnotic**

* * *

_"...Make me feel like someone else_

_You got me talking in my sleep_

_I don't wanna come back down_

_I don't wanna touch the ground..."_

* * *

_September, 299 AC_

_Winterfell_

On the morning of her wedding, Sansa woke early to break her fast with Robb. In the solar that was connected to her private chamber, a hearty breakfast had been laid out and she’d spent an hour in her twin's company. It was strange to think that she’d be separated from him soon. Her heart ached at such a thought as she watched him smear too much strawberry preserve over a piece of toast. As children, they’d been inseparable. Sansa had always believed that they would stay together no matter what happened. She could still remember crying when they’d been seperated for lessons at the age of six. Two hours apart from each other had felt like an eternity, but her mother had understood their attachment and didn't keep them apart for long. Theon had once called their attachment 'unnatural' and Robb’s reaction still brought a smile to her face. He’d left Theon with a bloody nose and had forced the iron-born to apologize for questioning his sister’s honor.   

“If he hurts you, I’ll ride south,” Robb told her after the maids had cleared the table of food. “You just have to tell me. Seven Hells, I’ll take you away now, if you want. I’ll you have to do is tell me that you want to leave, Sansa.” 

A small smile came to Sansa’s lips, “I can’t do that and you know it, Robb. This match has been planned since we were infants and I don’t think that Lord Baratheon would take kindly to my leaving at the last possible minute.” 

Robb held her hand in his larger one and she smoothed her thumb across his knuckles. They had been best friends since the moment they’d understood what friends were. Robb was the closest thing that she had to a friend. Her mother had never quite allowed such a frivolous luxury and she’d been just as strict with her other children. To Lady Stark, station in life was everything and no one around Winterfell ranked quite high enough to be the companion of her children, not even Jayne Poole or Jon Snow.  

“I’ll come see you the moment that you’re settled,” Robb vowed as the door behind him opened. They both looked to see their mother walk in wearing a tired smile on her face. Behind her, several maids carrying various items were lined up and ready to attend to Sansa's every want and need.  

“Robb, I believe that I saw Bran outside. Please go and make sure that he’s not climbing again.” 

Her twin squeezed her hand and reluctantly stood. He gave her a playful wink before he kissed their mother's cheek as he passed and left them alone. Catelyn crossed the room and took Robb’s seat.  

“How do you feel this morning?” she asked softly as the maids came in and went directly to the  bedchamber.  

“Tired and nervous,” Sansa admitted with a forced smile. “Robb had the morning meal prepared just the way I like it. I suppose that it’s his gift to me.” 

“He’s having a hard time excepting that you won’t be around,” Catelyn sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. “You and him have always been together since before you were born. I can’t imagine what he’ll be like once you’ve left us. Your father will probably be at his wit's end trying to distract Robb from missing you. The Seven knows that I will miss you. ” 

“I’ll write to you once a week. I'll write to him as well and assure him that he doesn’t need to charge south to save me,” Sansa laughed. “I think he’s more terrified than I am.” 

“What are you terrified of?” 

The smile and the giggle that had been on her lips died. Catelyn's question wasn't unfair. It was just difficult to narrow down what exactly,she was afraid of. The first time she'd seen Stannis Baratheon, trotting into the bailey with his nephew, she'd felt a rush of different feelings. Intrigue, fear, and hope were only the main three that she could have identified if someone had asked her. The sight of him had finally brought the reality of her own situation forward and if it had not been for Robb's support, Sansa was certain that she would have had had a panic. When he'd dismounted his horse, she'd been pleasantly surprised to see that Stannis Baratheon wasn't at all like his brother. His height had been the first thing that she'd noticed as well as his black hair. Although Stannis wasn't as tall as Robert, he was still a head taller than most men and she'd felt relief course through her veins. She was already considered tall for a lady and it had been a gift to know that she wouldn’t be taller than her husband.  

Nerves had kept Sansa away from him for the following days. She had made certain that she wouldn't be left alone with him. The few things that she knew about Stannis had come from her father. Ned had told her a few details about her future lord husband that he'd remembered from the war while she'd been growing up. Her father had described him as a quiet man who took his duties and responsibilities as serious matters that were important to attended to. Stannis was indeed quiet, but having seen the way that Robert interacted with people, Sansa imagined that Stannis was quiet for a reason. Arya had called him insufferably proud and thought that he'd been looking down his nose at them, but Sansa hadn't sensed that at all when she'd been around him.

She'd seen what had happened to the butcher's boy after having been bullied by the other boys for his size. Alisar had become quiet and withdrawn...the same as Stannis. He was not insufferably proud, but kept to himself for a reason and speaking with him in her mother's solar had only confirmed her suspicions. He'd grown flustered when she was kind to him just like Alisar had in the past. Stannis didn't trust her sincerity and she supposed that he didn't have reason. He knew as little about her as she knew about him. With Robert for a brother, Sansa imagined that life was not easy. The king had only been there a short time and he'd left an unfavorable impression on her, just like his son had. It didn't escape Sansa how Stannis scowled at both his brother and nephew when they acted inappropriately. Where Robert was boisterous and vulgar, Joffery was something else. She couldn't explain it, but she understood why Robb didn't trust the golden prince. She believed him to be a boy trying to prove himself a man, but there was something in his eyes that warned Sansa not to trust him or be alone with him.  

When thinking about her mother's question, Sansa knew what her biggest fear was.

She'd seen her parents happy marriage and it was something that she coveted for herself. A happy life was all she'd ever wanted and she feared that events out of her control would damage such a prospect. She feared that the King would damage her wish and she didn't think it was an unreasonable fear. Robert Baratheon was selfish. His behavior gave every indication that he cared very little for his own honor and family. He made sport of others for his own amusement and it bothered her to no end. Had he made sport of Stannis in the past? From what she could tell, neither brother particularly cared for the other and she was curious to know why. Something had to have happened for such a rift to exist and she refused to accept that the brothers had never loved one another. 

"Sansa?"   

Catelyn's soft voice brought Sansa out of her thoughts and she stared at her mother's serene expression, “I fear that Lord Baratheon won’t ever trust me and you’ve seen his scowls, Mother. I don’t want to be the recipient of them for the rest of my life.” 

Before Catelyn could respond, Septa Mordane announced that Sansa’s bath was ready. The copper hip bath was lined with a white cloth and the water was clear. As she rid herself her dressing gown and night shift, Sansa shivered when she stepped in. The water wasn’t quite warm, but it wasn’t cold either. She’d much prefer a bath in the hot springs, but it wasn’t possible. On the day of her wedding, she imagined that half the court would be down there bathing.  

Using the jasmine and lavender soap that was her favorite, Sansa quickly cleaned herself before allowing one of the maid to help her wash her hair. In silence, Catelyn sat watching her as the maids arranged her hair into a simple, but elegant style. Likes bees in a hive, various maids scurried about her chambers. Her smallclothes were brought forth and slipped onto her body. Next came her shift and corset, both were laced and once the maid had tied off the lacing of the shift, her mother stood.  

“Don’t make the same mistakes that I did,” Catelyn said with a tired smile on her face.  

“I don’t think you’ve made mistakes,” Sansa replied innocently as she watched her mother in the mirror. Catelyn dismissed the handmaiden who’d been threading the lacing of her corset. Hearing the laces move, Sansa said nothing as Catelyn began to work. Fashions were so very different from the south, the queen’s dress didn’t appear to have a corset and it made Sansa wonder if it was exclusively a northern style. The sound of her mother’s voice broke her thoughts and forced her to meet Catelyn’s eyes in the mirror.   

“When your father came back to Riverrun after the war...I was a naive sixteen years old girl. Both you and your brother were nearly a year old and I had had such high hopes for everything. I was so excited the day that my father saw his banners on the horizon. I quickly gathered you and your brother up, along with the septa and waited for him. When he presented me with Jon…my whole dream was shattered.” 

Sansa swallowed as she thought about Jon. Her mother had never been fond of her bastard brother. She and Robb had never thought about him as a bastard, not the way her mother did.  He’d always been a playmate to them and social standing had little to do with playing hide and go seek in a castle as large as Winterfell. Even as they'd grown older, she still viewed him as a brother. Sansa knew what people whispered behind her brother's back, but she didn't care what they said. Jon loved her and that was all that mattered. She loved him just as much as she loved Robb and her other siblings. Social standing had little to do with her caring for Jon.  

“And then, he told me about pledging both you and Robb to Robert’s children,” Catelyn continued with the same tired smile that she’d wore earlier. “I hated it. I hated what he’d done and I vowed that I would never speak to him again. Truthfully, my vow only lasted a fortnight, but I refused him in everything else. I hoped to punish him for what he'd done. I was young and I believed that the only way to teach a lesson was to ignore him. Your father…he did everything that he could think to do to win back my favor and I rejected each advance. Looking back now, I realize that not many men would wait over three years to get back into their wife’s bed, Sansa.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because Lord Baratheon is not exactly like your father and I know that you’re a practical girl. I’ve raised you to be all the things that Lord Baratheon expects a lady to be. Educated, graceful, poised, well-read…but I want you to know that you can make him love you. Despite every bad thing that can happen, he can grow to love you. You just have to nurture the feelings that I know he will begin to feel for you.” 

“Make Stannis Baratheon love me?” Sansa exclaimed with an arched brow. “I don’t think that is possible.” 

“Stannis Baratheon is a man and all men will seek comfort and love when it’s offered. It’s a natural instinct that they try desperately to hide. They think that emotion makes them weak. It doesn’t, Sansa. All I am saying is let your heart be open and don’t judge your husband for the mistakes that he will eventually make. I judged your father and punished him for something that had happened in a time of war. It made us both miserable for years until I realized that I had a choice. I could live my life being miserable with my husband, or I could learn to forgive him by loving him. Sansa, I just want you happy. You didn’t choose this, but that doesn’t mean that it is the end of your life. That was how I viewed my marriage to your father. Instead, I was given a bright new beginning.”  

Her mother’s smile never left her face, “Besides, after tonight, you’ll know one way that men take their comfort.” 

“Bedding their wives?” 

“Yes, and it will hopefully yield you children soon enough. Do you have questions?” 

“I know the general principles of what will happen,” Sansa said carefully as Catelyn helped her to put her petticoats on. “Will it hurt?” 

“It may,” Catelyn admitted as she tied the petticoats around Sansa's waist. “Sometimes, men don’t realize that a woman’s body is different from their own. We need different things to be ready to accept them into our body. I’ll leave a small bottle of oil in the bedside cabinet. You may find it useful to use before Lord Baratheon comes to you tonight. Smear it between your legs and it will help the pain, Sansa.” 

She nodded and bit her bottom lip, “Will it be quick?” 

“I can’t tell you, but just lie still and wait until he’s finished.” 

“And then?” 

“He’ll probably leave you and you’ll be finished with your duty for the night. In the morning, the maids will take the sheet and present it as proof of your innocence and show the hall.” 

Sansa felt her cheeks redden at the thought of everyone knowing what had transpired between her and Lord Baratheon.  

"This discomfort will only last a little while," Catelyn said in a reassuring voice. "When he comes to your bed, ask him how his day was and show interest in what he finds interesting. You may not find it interesting like he does, but listening to him will teach you a great deal about your husband. Besides, I don't think that Lord Baratheon has had time to converse much with anyone. From what your father tells me, your soon to be husband is a busy man and has been since the end of the war. He's spent the last fifteen years working diligently to build up Storm's End and he's made it highly profitable in the south."  

"I'm just supposed to speak with him?" 

"Sansa, tonight when he beds you, don't appear too excited. Lord Baratheon isn't a man who's trustful of others. The Gods only know that it has taken your father eighteen years to gain Lord Baratheon's trust. You're innocent and in the coming days you'll be discovering new things about your body that you want to explore more in depth. It's a natural thing, but I do caution you not to be too excited." 

"Why? Lord Baratheon will know that I'm a virgin." 

"Yes, but girls can engage in other marital activities that doesn't involve a man penetrating them. Let him take the lead and follow." 

Sansa blushed deeply as she twisted her fingers in front of her. She recalled the few times that she'd overheard the maids giggling about marital activities. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she'd been too curious for her own good. One of the women had talked about how her lover had put his head in the valley between her legs and had sucked on her sweet nectar. The girl had claimed that she'd just about died from pleasure while Sansa had been sure that she'd almost died of mortification. She hadn't been able to look any of the staff in the eye in the weeks after the conversation. 

Before either Catelyn or Sansa could say anything, there was a knock on the door. Catelyn bid the person to enter and Sansa was surprised to see her father. He wore his best clothing and looked almost sad. A smile crept onto his lips, but Sansa could see that he'd made an effort for her. 

* * *

Ned had always felt that of all his children, Sansa was the least trying.

Growing up, she'd always been the quiet voice of reason between his sons and Arya. She was the one child that he'd never had to worry much about and as a result, he hadn't paid much attention to her. Sleep had been elusive the night before and it had left Ned with too many uncomfortable hours to feel shame and disappointment. Hours that he'd spent thinking over the life that he'd given to Sansa. Failure was the only word that he'd been able use to summarize how he'd felt.  

From the earliest age, Catelyn had made certain that Sansa knew she was promised to another. There had been no childish dreams of weddings or princes. Vayon Poole had once told him that his daughter, Jayne, spent many hours daydreaming about princes and far away places. While other girls had been off playing with dolls, Sansa had been at lessons. Catelyn had been fearful about preparing her daughter to be the Lady of Storm's End that there had been little time for playing. The only person who had seen Sansa as a child had been Robb. Ned couldn't remember ever specifically giving Sansa a gift besides the gold dragon that he'd give her on her name day. Catelyn had always given Sansa something practical and his younger children had often forgot about Sansa's sharing a name-day with Robb.

Rickon was too little to understand and Bran had idolized Robb. Arya had often forgot Sansa's gift out of spite and Robb...his son was perhaps the only person that actually gave Sansa a gift with true meaning. Ned could remember how excited Sansa had been over receiving new painting supplies from Robb the year before. He hadn't even known that his daughter was good at painting until Robb had insisted that Sansa show the family a canvas that she'd been working on. The memory gave way to pain. Pain that inflamed the shame that he felt as a father. He loved Sansa, but he'd failed her in every way that mattered. Regret had filled him all night and had gnawed at him all morning. He didn't know Sansa. He didn't know his daughter well at all.

It felt as if one moment she'd been a little girl and the next moment, Sansa had become the woman standing before him. She'd changed so quickly that he hadn't know exactly when it had happened and Ned had only himself to blame. He taken the easy way out when it came to Sansa. He'd let the Maester and Septa do most of the work and anything else, Catelyn had taken care of. He'd never taught Sansa to ride a horse like he'd taught Jon, Robb, or Bran. Arya had always inserted herself into lessons and he'd accepted her, but he'd never invited Sansa to join them. All night, Ned had laid in bed agonizing over his daughter. For what had felt like the thousandth time, he'd cursed the Old Gods and Robert for the situation that was laid out before them all. He hated what his king had done and he resented ever agreeing to the match.  

Staring at his daughter, Ned was surprised by how serene she looked. Her beauty was magnified in the morning light that seeped in through the window. Her hair had been pulled back from her face and he saw Catelyn's Tully blue eyes. The light grey dress she wore was complimented by cream colored accent panel running down the front of her gown. Gold thread caught his gaze and Ned could see that an elaborate scene of stags, flowers, and various birds had been embroidered into the cream colored bodice and front panel of the gown. Cream colored rabbit fur lined her sleeves and the collar of her Stark cloak. She looked beautiful and he didn't know quite what he should say to her. In his mind, she was still the little babe that he'd come home to after the war. She had walked around on chubby legs and her smile had made his heart fly with joy when he'd chased after her.  

Now, he looked at her and realized that the problem wasn't that she'd grown up. No, Ned realized that the problem was caused by his own stupidity. He'd paid less attention to Sansa hoping that he could delay her growing up. The only person who had any right to feel hurt or resentful of the situation was Sansa. Suddenly, a wave of regret so powerful hit him and Ned felt like he needed to sit down. He wondered at how many opportunities he'd missed to be a part of her life had passed him by...little moments that he'd never get back...  

"Is it time already?" Cat asked with a worried look on her face. "We're not ready." 

"No," Ned said before clearing his throat. "I just wanted to see if there was anything that I could do to help." 

"Go make certain that someone is attending to Lord Baratheon," Cat answered with a flustered wave of her hand. "Sansa will be ready soon and I don't want to keep Lord Baratheon waiting any longer than needed."  

Ned nodded. He was well aware that the duty he was about to perform was well beneath his rank, but he didn't care. It gave him something useful to do. It gave him some occupation to try and distract himself from the thoughts running through his head. Leaving, he briefly heard Catelyn instructing a maid to grab needle and thread to repair a small part of the hem of Sansa's dress before the door closed behind him. The hall was silent and moving as swiftly as his children's direwolves, Ned went to the guest chambers that he knew were Stannis Baratheon's. A servant opened the door to the private solar that was just outside the bed chamber and Robert's boisterous laughter greeted him.  

"It's the truth!" Robert cried from his spot next to Ser Davos. "If you get a girl's cunt nice and wet, it makes the bedding process easier and losing her virginity doesn't hurt like a bitch. I'd rather put the work into making her wet between her legs than having to listen to a whore cry because I've pricked her cunt too hard with my cock!" 

Stannis wore a dark look on his face and scowled at the mirror as he laced his black leather doublet. He was dressed in his best and Robert sat on a chair not far with Ser Davos. The Onion Knight looked like he was ready to spring into action at any moment to prevent a bloodbath from taking place between the two Baratheon brothers. 

"Not this morning, Robert," Stannis said through clenched teeth. 

"Just remember, Stannis, don't stick your cock anywhere that isn't wet. It'll hurt and it's been you and your hand for far too long. Think of this as my wedding gift to you! Advice about how to fuck like a man!" 

Robert roared with laughter at his own supposed joke while Stannis looked like he was grinding his teeth to powder. Ned was actually surprised that Robert hadn't been hit with something yet, but decided that was probably because of Ser Davos' presence. Stannis' hands looked like they were aching to draw a blade and gut his brother as the two attendants moved around him.  

"Ned!" Robert boomed as he stood. "Good you could join us! I was just--" 

"Telling vulgar stories about the various virgins he'd bedded," Stannis snapped irritably as he waved away an attendant. "Unnecessary stories! For the sake of the seven, Robert, don't you have something else to do this morning? Isn't your son somewhere and needs you? Isn't there some other problem in the realm that needs your attention?" 

Robert narrowed his eyes and the tension in the air grew. Fearing that Stannis might actually kill the King, Ned cleared his throat as Ser Davos stood. The Baratheon men looked up at him with different expressions and he briefly wondered how exactly the two men could be related. The two attendants who'd been helping Stannis ready for the wedding acknowledged Ned with a bow and he dismissed them with instructions to report to Lady Catelyn to make sure that she had no other tasks for them. The servants left and Robert poured himself a glass of wine.  

"I was hoping that I could have a moment alone with Lord Baratheon," Ned said quietly.  

"Why? Can't I be here or must it be private?" Robert demanded.  

"He is to be my good-son and I am giving him my daughter in marriage today. I would just like a few minutes alone with him," Ned explained uncomfortably as Stannis moved to the desk in the antechamber outside the bedchamber.  

"My King," Ser Davos said quickly. "I thought that you and I might go and explore Lord Stark's tiltyard. I heard that you are impressive with a hammer. Perhaps, you could give me a few pointers?" 

Robert grabbed the closest wineskin and the goblet on the table, "Let's go, Seaworth! I'll show you how to wield more than just a hammer! Let's leave these two old men to talk."  

The King and Ser Davos left and silence filled the rooms.  

"You don't look pleased," Ned said quietly as he stood in the doorway between the bedchamber where Robert and Davos had been sitting and antechamber where the desk was. Stannis withdrew a small iron chest from a drawer and a key from his doublet. Ned watched with interest as the Stormlander put the key into the small lid of the chest and turned it. The lock clicked and the lid popped open.  

"My brother has always been vulgar and his son is no different," Stannis scoffed with annoyance. "I spent most of my journey north listening to my nephew brag about which tavern wench he'd defiled the night before and my brother is the same."  

Stannis took a velvet bag out of the desk drawer and held it out to Ned.  

"A gift for Lady Sansa," he said quietly. "I had hoped that she would wear this gift. For hundred's of years it has been a tradition for the bride of the Lord of Storm's End to wear it. My mother was the last woman who wore it. It felt appropriate that someone as graceful and beautiful as your daughter be the next woman."   

Ned didn't open the velvet pouch, but he cleared his throat again. 

"Sansa is a good girl," he began quietly before he moved to look out the window. "She's always been a good girl and I...I have not always been a good father. I admit that I took an easier road. I knew that she'd be gone and married off to you someday. I left her to the care of her mother and I looked after my boys better than I looked after her. I regret...I wish that I had the ability to go back into time and change how I behaved, but I can't. I know that you have little interest in marrying my daughter, Lord Baratheon, but I hope that you'll treat her well. I've never had the chance to tell her how proud I am of her. She's taken an impossible situation and handled it with more grace than any queen could ever muster and she makes me proud to say that I am her father." 

Silence filled the room and just when Ned began to feel regret for sharing his thoughts, Stannis spoke up with an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's not too late to tell her that. I'm sure that she'd want to know that you're proud of her and that you love her." 

Ned gave him a sad smile, "I won't ruin her day by making my regrets known to her. She deserves to be happy today and I think that she is." 

"Oh?" Stannis asked looking a little hopeful. "Really?" 

"Yes," Ned answered. "Happy enough that she turned down Robb's offer to help escape according to the maids during breakfast." 

Stannis' lips twisted into what Ned would almost call an amused smile. As quickly as it came, it was gone and Stannis stood before him with the same unreadable expression on his face.  

"I'll give this to her," Ned said as he held up the velvet bag. 

"And I will attempt to keep Robert sober for the ceremony." 

Ned chuckled and shook his head, "Good luck with that, Lord Baratheon." 

Moving from the rooms, Ned closed the door behind him and stood listening as Robert came back. The King quickly returned to telling Stannis some outrageous tale that involved a midget tavern wench and an empty wine bottle that was stuck into various orifices. Shaking his head at the stupidity of Robert's story, Ned pushed himself away from the door and returned to Sansa's chambers. He knocked and she called out for him to enter. Stepping inside, Sansa was sitting in the window seat with her legs tucked under her. She looked relieved to see him and smiled.  

"I thought that you would be mother and yell about me wrinkling my gown."  

"No," Ned said as he moved to sit next to her. Outside, he could see the Godswood and the beautiful green leaves hanging from the trees. He looked to see Sansa watching them with avid interest.  

"I have something for you," Ned told her quietly and Sansa looked at him with surprise. He held out the velvet bag to her and smiled.  

"Thank you," she replied as she tugged at the leather strings. "Is this from you and mother?" 

"No," Ned answered as he cleared his throat. "A gift from Lord Baratheon. He wished for you to wear it. He said that all the brides of the Lords of Storm's End have worn it...his mother included." 

A look of surprise overcame Sansa and she handled the bag with extreme care. From the velvet pouch, tumbled out a beautiful necklace. A look of shock covered Sansa's face as she examined the necklace with care and held it up to the sunlight. 

"Aquamarine," Ned told her softly. "The stone of Storm's End. According to legend, aquamarine is only found in caves off the coast of Storm's End. Rare and it's never found anywhere else." 

"It's beautiful," Sansa breathed as she examined the necklace. Thirty-eight stones were cut into perfect circles and arranged from the largest one in the middle and the smallest ones on the ends near the clasp. Sansa stood up and held the necklace out to him.  

"Would you?" she asked with hope in her eyes and Ned nodded. He took the necklace from her and she turned. The bow that had kept the Stark cloak on her shoulders was untied and she dropped the cloak a little. Her hair had been swept up from her neck into an simple style with a few braids placed as well as a mother of pearls comb that Blackfish Tully had gifted Sansa on her tenth name-day. Ned placed the necklace around her throat and closed the clasps. The necklace settled at the base of her throat and the largest stone rested against the middle of her breastbone.  

"How does it look?"  

"Beautiful," Ned told her, but he wasn't talking about the necklace. Sansa was beautiful and he hoped that Stannis saw her as more than just a beauty. His daughter was good and she would make a good wife and mother. "I hope that you will find love and happiness with Lord Baratheon. He is a good man and will treat you well." 

"I don't believe that Lord Baratheon will ever love me," Sansa said with a soft look in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the stones. "I don't need love, Father. Lord Baratheon will treat me well. I know him to be an honorable man and he will not break vows that he makes. I also know that people are put off by his stern countenance, but I will find a way to live with it, I promise. You don't have to worry about me. I don't need love to sustain me like the young heroines in fairy tales." 

Her words made his heart feel like it had been ripped in two. He had not loved Catelyn at first, but they had grown a loving relationship. There had been hope in the beginning of their marriage. Hope that Ned had never let go of and he wasn't sure what he could say to Sansa. She wasn't hopeful of love.

It had always been his wish that his children would love the ones they married and the knowledge that she'd resigned herself to a loveless match caused his heart to ache in a whole new way.  

"It's time," he murmured. 

* * *

Her wedding and wedding feast had passed in what felt like a daze.

Sansa couldn't recall what words she'd said to her husband at her wedding ceremony beneath the heart tree. Nor could she recall the words that she'd repeated in the Sept before the new gods. The whole ceremony had been like waking up from a dream and not clearly remembering what she'd been dreaming about. The feeling of resting her hand on the crook of her husband's shoulder had been different. He was taller than Robb and she'd been forced to place her hand higher, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from admiring how well he looked. Sansa wouldn't describe Stannis as homely. No, he was a stern man, but not unattractive. His stormy grey eyes drew her in and she found herself looking at him when she thought no one was looking. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. She suspected that under his dark clothing, his body was well kept. 

The feast had passed in a blur of color speeches, dancing, and too much drinking. Robb's betrothal to Myrcella had been announced followed by Arya's betrothal to Joffery. Her sister had looked horrified and Robb had looked less than thrilled, but he'd been attentive to young Myrcella Baratheon throughout the night. Out of all the guests, Robert Baratheon had been the worst offender. He'd groped any serving wench that had come within a foot of him, his laughter had been too loud and twice, Sansa had blushed with embarrassment when the king fell off his seat from laughing and too much wine. Stannis had looked exceeding uncomfortable with the display and had conversed with various lords that made up her father's bannermen. Each Lord seemed to respect her husband and several had begun speaking about various military tactics at sea. It was the most lively she'd seen Stannis Baratheon and when his brother had stood up to announce that it was time for the bride and her lord husband to retire, any and all traces of good humor had been erased from his face. She'd been quickly escorted away by a few handmaidens and rowdy cheers from drunken men, Robert Baratheon being the loudest of them all.  

In her chambers, Sansa had quickly been stripped of her outer gowns and layers until she was only in her corset and small clothes. A lace robe from the south was slipped on. The beautiful necklace that Stannis had gifted her had been carefully removed and put back into the velvet pouch. Her hair had been unpinned and put in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. Sansa had been left alone and the silence had been unsettling. All day, she'd been surrounded by people wishing her joy. It felt like there had barely been enough time to compose her thoughts when she heard the door open and she had wondered just how much time had actually passed.  

The door closed and she knew that he’d come to her.

Her spine stiffened when she heard the lock in the door engage and her whole body felt like a bow string that had been stretched far beyond its limits. His steps were so quiet that she had to strain to hear his movements. It was the sound of his robe on the floor that caught her attention as he came to stand in front of her, his usual scowl on his face.  Not daring to meet his eyes, Sansa stared at the floor. His dark blue robe touched the ground and she watched the fabric move before Stannis tossed it aside to the chair that was near the fire.   

“You know what’s expected of us,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Looking up, her mouth had long since gone dry and Sansa managed to nod. He stood before her bare chested and wearing only breeches. In the firelight, she could see various scars across his body. A particularly nasty scar was on his side and looked like something had torn into his flesh and ripped. Two fingers gently touched the underside of her jaw and raised her head. Looking into his stormy grey eyes, she couldn't read his eyes and wondered just what he was thinking about. Before she could have any more time to study him, he moved to stand behind her. She controlled the urge to jump when he placed his hands on her back. It wasn't the touch of a friend. No, it was the warm touch of a man and she felt her heart speed up in her chest. Proficiently, he worked the strings of her corset undone. It felt to the floor near his robe and she took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. Her outer shift came next before she was standing in nothing save the loose shift that was edged in lace and her cotton stockings that ended mid-thigh. The fabric was soft against her skin and she doubted that Stannis cared about her clothing.  

“Lay down on the bed.” 

Turning her head to look at the bed that one of the maids had prepared, Sansa moved towards it. The Bedding Ceremony usually allowed the women to pull back the bed covers, but both her brother and father had forbidden such a ceremony. The blankets on the bed were soft and once settled, she unsure of what to expect. Suddenly, she remembered the small bottle of oil her mother had instructed her to use and Sansa felt panic. She hadn't touched it and before she could convince herself to speak up, the bed dipped a little from Stannis weight and she closed her eyes. The feeling of the back of a hand running down her throat and down to the valley of her breasts made her short of breath and she stiffened without being able to stop herself.  

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Stannis breathed sounding impossibly close to the lobe of her ear. “I don’t know if you believe that, but I made a vow today to protect you, not to hurt you.”    

Swallowing, she bit her bottom lip when his hand was replaced by his lips. He kissed the lobe of her ear. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. His lips were not the soft lips of a knight that she’d listened to other girls describe in fairy tales. No, his lips were rough and the dark stubble on his face rubbed against her fair skin. The feeling of his body so close was impossible to process and she didn't know what to do. He smelt like citrus, sandalwood and something else that she couldn’t quite place. The scent teased her senses as much as his lips did against her skin. He trailed kisses down her throat and each one left a wonderful warm sensation in their wake. As each kiss became more aggressive than the previous one, heat began to pool in her pelvis. It was followed by an unbearable desire that needed to be clenched. She couldn’t place what was happening to her, but it felt different…a good kind of different. His lips were weaving a trance that she was letting herself fall into and she barely noticed when Stannis pulled at the front laces of her shift.  

He bared more of her chest to the cool night air. When the neck of the shift was open, he pulled it further down over her shoulders and the tops of her arms. She helped him by slightly raising her shoulders. Unconsciously, Sansa moved to cover her breasts, but he caught her hands. Opening her eyes, she flushed from embarrassment as he stared at her chest. His eyes were dark and her nipples pebbled from the cool night air. An unfamiliar tingling had begun in the core of each breast that mirrored the feeling growing between her thighs. Her breasts ached with need in a mortifying way.  

As if he could sense what she needed, Stannis lowered his head...still holding onto her wrists. He placed feather kisses across her breast bone before letting go of one wrist. At the same time his mouth covered her nipple, he rolled its twin between his fingers and Sansa arched her back as she gasped loudly. It was a sensation unlike anything that she'd ever felt. She clenched her thighs together with need as her eyes almost rolled back into her head. Her whole body hummed with a feeling that was foreign and like a bolt of lightning, more warmth flooded between her thighs and the wanton urge to rub herself against him made her blush the dark as the color of her hair.  It felt so intoxicatingly good as his tongue swirled around her engorged nipple before he moved his head to her other breast. He let go of her other wrist and she instinctively let her hands run up and down his arms. On his left forearm, her thumb brushed against a raised scar and she was surprised when his whole hand grasped her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple over and over as she bit her lip to suppress her moans. His body was warm and his skin brushed against hers and despite her uncertainty of the whole situation, a shot of warmth swelled in her body with each time he sucked at the skin of her breast and nipple.  

His rough lips trailed up and over the soft skin of her neck again. She instinctively grasped at his shoulders. His body stiffened for a moment before she felt the muscles beneath her skin relax. He continued to kiss her neck and she gave a sigh of disapproval when he moved his hands away from her breasts. He raised himself away from her and tugged insistently at the hem of her shift. She raised her hips just a little before he moved his hands back up to her arms and pulled the shift down further until she had to lift her hips again. She helped him to dispose of the shift and was surprised when he tugged at the blue ribbon that kept her stockings in place. With care that she didn't think he was capable of, Stannis slowly rolled each stocking down her thigh and lower leg. Sitting back on her elbows, she bit her lower lip as his fingertips trailed over every bit of new flesh he exposed. He was still in his breeches, but his skin had a sheen about it in the firelight. Watching him, Sansa felt like the room had become uncomfortably warm. The breath in her throat caught when he stood up and quickly undid the laces of his breeches and pushed them down. They were both naked and she blushed furiously. She didn't know what men looked like naked, but she silently wondered exactly how his shaft was going to fit into her body.

It just didn't seem possible.  

Before she could dwell on the problem, he joined he in the bed again. His hands pulled at her thighs in a silent demand. Slightly parting them, he balanced himself on his side beside her and his fingers traced the contour of her breast before his fingertips trailed down her ribs. Everywhere he touched left a trail of gooseflesh and sent shots of warmth to the area between her thighs. Her breaths became short and she closed as she laid back and enjoyed the feeling of his hands wandering over her flesh. A part of her kept her mother's advice in the back of her mind. She was eager for his touch and she was desperate to explore the magnetic pull that demanded to control her, but she told herself to enjoy the feeling of him touching her. Stannis would set the tempo for the evening and she would simply enjoy all the sensations that he stroked to life inside her. 

Lower and lower his hand wandered until she felt his fingertips brush against her inner thigh. Her skin felt like it was on fire and a fever had taken hold of her. She felt warm all over and his touch made her hold her breath in anticipation. She didn't know what she craved, but her body seemed to control her. She bit down on her bottom lip to suppress a moan as her husband cupped her sex. Hands by her head, Sansa fisted the sheets as her heart raced in anticipation. Ignoring the voice in her head that called her wanton, she waited for his next touch.

His touch was nothing like her own. Late at night, she'd traced the curves of her body with her own hands. However, the feel of her own hands was nothing compared to the feel of his. They weren't soft hands. No, Stannis' hands were rough. She imagined that years of sailing and fighting had made them hard. He didn't have soft hands, but the way he traced over her flesh...the way his fingers rubbed against the lips of her hot, wet sex and her damp curls... 

The heat inside her intensified as she gasped in need. Willingly, she spread her legs further. She resisted the urge to roll her hips. In reality, it took far too much control not to grasp his wrist and rub herself like a wanton woman mad with lust against his long, slim fingers. Without warning, she moaned as he dragged his finger through her slick, wet folds. Pleasure shot down her spine and the fever that she felt before mutated into a raging inferno of heat and desire. Whatever his finger had brushed against made her whole body quiver and felt unexplainably good. Dampness that she hadn't even realized was there became suddenly apparent and she blushed feeling just how wet she'd become. He made a sound of approval before moving his hand away from her core. He shifted above her and she could feel his hardness against her inner thigh. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Curiosity forced her to open her eyes. He was above her, balanced on his forearm and knees. She lifted her head and watched his hand guided his hard cock to her wet opening.  

It was a different feeling than his finger...harder, warmer... 

She instinctively grasped his upper arm when he began to penetrate her. The feeling of being stretched made her bite her lip as he disappear into her body. He moved his hand away and gave a small, tentative thrust. It wasn't completely painful and that surprised her. There was an undercurrent of pleasure there and her body begged for more. Without much warning, he thrust himself fully into her. The feeling of something tearing inside of her caused her to cry out as if she'd been stabbed. Her back arched up towards his chest in response and she stared up at the canopy. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she promised herself that she wouldn't cry. Above her, she could feel Stannis' harsh breathing against her neck and was surprised when he began to lavish kisses on the damp skin of her neck. The pain that he'd caused slowly dissipated as they lay together. He was buried deep inside her when the pain eased a little. 

He kept his face tucked into her neck when she felt him begin to move. He rolled his hips and withdrew his member a little. Thinking that the act was over, Sansa gasped when she felt him push back into her again. The first few thrusts of his hips assaulted tender flesh, but soon the pain faded away and a warmth began to fill her womanhood along with a feeling of fullness that she hadn't expected. She let go of his upper arms and slid her hands lower on his body. Touching the sides of his ribs, she could feel the muscles of his body moving under warm skin. He pulled his face away from her and without warning, he grabbed the back of her knee and encouraged her leg higher. The shift in position caused him to make such a delicious noise that her stomach twisted in a way that she couldn't explain. When both her knees were parallel to his hips, he thrust into her harder. Her body was pushed against the bed from the force of his thrust and the wooden bed frame groaned with the movements. 

Sansa didn't care about the noise or wonder if others could hear it.

No, she could only lose herself in the feeling of him moving inside of her body. His lips returned to her neck and she closed her eyes. Each thrust was faster than the last and a building tension in her body grew until she felt like a bow string, taunt and ready to snap. Her body begged for a release that she didn't know and she arched her back. His chest rubbed against hers as her breast ached just as badly as her womanhood did for more. What he'd given her hadn't been enough and she greedily wanted more. Like a building crescendo, Sansa could feel herself moving closer and closer to some imaginary edge as he rocked inside of her. Stannis' hips moved with a frenzied pace and the steady rhymthic thrusts that he'd started out with were soon gone. His eyes were clenched shut his mouth slightly open as he breathed like a man who was running for his life.   

All too soon, it was over and he groaned loudly as his body tensed above her. His head fell back into the hollow space where her neck met her shoulders and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. He took short, panting breaths as he kept his lower body pressed tightly against hers. Her heart pounded in her ears and with him pressed so close to her, Sansa swore she could feel his own heart beating just as rapidly as hers. All too soon, he moved away from her. It was done and she’d never felt like something was missing in her entire life. Her body ached for something more and she didn’t know how to satisfy the urgent feeling of need that Stannis had left in his wake.

* * *

In the two weeks following her wedding, her husband bedded her every single night. Sansa had grown accustom to the feeling of his hard shaft inside her and his kisses on her neck. The first few times he'd laid with her after their first night had left her undoubtedly sore, but the feeling had dulled from an ache to a pleasant tingling sensation that never seemed to fully go away. Every time he laid with her, she was still left with a distinct feeling of need that she couldn’t place. Her husband was still a stranger to her, but he did give her the gift of her body.  

Each time he lay with her, he showed her that she was a woman. Her body had desires and wants that begged to be fulfilled, she just didn't know how to tell him what she needed. He clearly knew what his body needed, but she suspected it was far easier for him to achieve that. Lying with him was both pleasure and torture. Stannis knew how to excite her to the point where she'd never had to use the oil her mother gave her. He'd probe her flesh until she was wet as a rainy day and each time he touched her, he brushed his thumb over an area that seemed to make her toes curl without any prompting.  

Each night, Sansa became more curious about her own body. Having spent plenty of hours overhearing conversations from the kitchen maids, she gathered that it was natural for her body to produce such a wetness. No one had ever said that it was unnatural and it seemed to ease Stannis' passage into her body. The kitchen women had also spoken about men petting the area between their legs until stars exploded behind their closed eyes. A few times during her baths, she had run her hands on her curves. She'd let her fingertips glide over her damp skin just the way that her husband did at night. Sansa hadn't been quite able to reproduce the feeling that Stannis managed to create, but the sound of her maid in the next room always caused her to lose her courage to go any further.   

On the morning of the hunt that Robert had ordered, Sansa found herself lying in bed after her husband had left with a fierce scowl on his face that would undoubtedly scare off anyone from coming near him. A smile was on her lips when he'd left because he'd finally spoke to her even if just a little. It was rare that she spoke with him once he came to their chambers. He just took her to bed and fell asleep afterwards. Stannis was always gone by the time that she woke up the next morning, but it had been different that morning. He'd woken her up by spreading kisses along her spine and in a heated moment, his fingers had lingered on her wet sex longer than they ever had before it had only driven her mad with desire and need. Their coupling had been quick and like always, he'd moved away from her when he'd finished spilling his seed.  

He'd dressed quickly as she'd lounged in bed watching. Before he'd left, she'd made up her mind to end the torment that he left her in. Asking him to tell her maid that she wanted to sleep longer, Sansa hadn't been able to contain her grin when she'd heard his voice through the door giving orders to her handmaiden. He'd left and she laid on the bed naked. Her nipples pebbled in the cool morning air as she pushed away the sheet that had been covering her nude form. Spreading her legs just a little, Sansa closed her eyes as she left her fingertips trail over her skin. Moving them down across her ribs to her hip bones and lower, she imagined that her hands was Stannis'. Her curls were soft and taking her middle finger, she circled the narrow passage that he pushed himself into.  

Her body was sticky and wet from their recent coupling, but the feeling of her finger against her velvet flesh felt indescribable. Feeling the stickiness, Sansa pulled her hand away and opened her eyes. She gazed at her hand and rubbed the white fluid on the tip of her finger against her thumb. The only logical conclusion that she could draw was that the whiteness was seed. She'd seen horses mate and she'd seen white fluid come from the males. Not giving much thought to her new discovery, Sansa moved her hand back to her womanhood and slid her finger through the slit.  

Petting herself, she bit her bottom lip and focused her attention on the one place that seemed to send sparks of warm up to her belly and down to her toes. Her heartbeat increased and a sheen of sweat broke out across her brow. It amazed her that a small nub of sensitive flesh could cause spasms of pleasure when touched. Rubbing the pad of her finger over the nub, Sansa bit her lip and closed her eyes. Focusing on the pleasure, she felt her body warm under the steady pressure that she applied to the sensitive area. Not being able to stop herself, Sansa gasped as she feverishly worked her finger against her velvet flesh. The same frenzied movements that overtook Stannis ruled her as coils of tension formed in her muscles and belly.

She added the pads of other fingers to her wet flesh as she rubbed herself with furious need. Her thighs trembled and her toes curled as the coils became tighter and tighter. Just when she thought that she could take no more, the most glorious feeling in the world filled her and left her feeling spent and as light as air. Her whole body felt like it had been flung over a cliff and dropped into a river of warmth and gratification unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Every part of her body hummed with delight and a smile crept onto her lips. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted, but the cool air felt good against her feverish skin.    

Whatever had just happened was the most thrilling thing that she'd ever felt in her life and she wanted to repeat it again. If it made her wanton, Sansa resigned herself to being wanton. She liked the feeling and found herself blushing as she thought about her husband as she moved her hand back to the small nub of pleasure that she had discovered.  

* * *

The blush on her cheeks remained as she dressed herself with the help of her maid. Quickly breaking her fast, Sansa went to the kennel to play a visit to Lady. Seeing the young direwolf, Sansa smiled and gently rubbed behind her ears. Deciding to take her to the field below the old abandoned tower, Sansa grabbed one of the leather balls that Robb had fashioned and left the kennel with Lady. The green below the old tower would provide plenty of space for Lady to run around in and practice her skills at fetching. 

Following the dirt path towards the tower, Sansa smiled as Lady stopped to smell anything that caught her interest. The closer they got to the tower, the more clearly Sansa could see a figure climbing. Shaking her head, she watched her younger brother scale the wall. Bran had always been a climber since he'd learned to crawl. It drove her mother to distraction and even she sometimes worried about the day that Bran would eventually fall. Sansa knew that Robb shared her concern. There were times that she'd watch him as he kept himself beneath Bran as their brother climbed. Sansa doubted that Robb would actually be able to catch Bran if he did fall from such a height, but she supposed that it gave her twin comfort to know that he was at least trying to protect their brother.  

Watching as Bran neared the top of the tower, she narrowed her eyes as he paused for a second. In a heartbeat, her eyes widened. Bran was falling and she could hear someone scream his name. Realizing that it was her screaming, she took off running as fast as she could. Sansa reached him and fell to her knees as tears fell down her cheeks. Fear of hurting him pulsed through her as she looked at his direwolf, uncertain of what to do. 

“Stay with him,” she ordered Summer after a moment. 

Gathering part of her skirts in her hand, she went running back towards Winterfell as fast as she could. The cold air stung her lungs as Lady ran after her, but Sansa barely paid attention. All she could think about was Bran and getting help. Had it not been for Lady running in front of her, Sansa was certain that she would have run into her father's horse. Grabbing tightly onto the saddle and the top of her father's boot, Sansa could barely breathe as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest in a most unpleasant way as she stared up with fear in her wide eyes.  

"Sansa?" Ned asked with a frown as he shook her hands off and quickly dismounted.  

"You have to come, please," she said as her voice cracked. "I can't believe it. You have to come and help him, please!" 

"Help who?"  

"He was almost to the top and he just..." 

"Who is he?" Ned demanded in a firm voice as he grasped her shoulders firmly. "Tell me, Sansa." 

"Bran fell from the old tower," she choked with tears in her eyes again. "He just fell in front of me. I-I-I left him there with Summer to come get help. His eyes are a closed and I didn't...I don't know what to do!" 

Ned turned pale as he turned to look at Robb. Her twin wore an equally shocked expression on his face and without thought, Robb went running towards the old tower with Jon on his heels. Ned called out orders to Ser Rodrick and went running after his sons. Standing in the middle of the stable yard, Sansa nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Stannis looked at her with thinly veiled worry on his face as pandemonium surrounded them. Soldiers were following orders from Ser Rodrick and other were sent for supplies to help move Bran. At some point, Sansa was certain that a blur that passed her was Maester Luwin. A horse was moved past them and she was forced to stand as close as possible to her husband. 

"He's never fallen," she whispered. "And I just...he fell and I...I just watched as his fall was broke by the ground." 

"There's nothing you could have done," he told her in the gruff voice that she'd grown surprisingly used to in the past fortnight. His thumb moved back in forth against her shoulder blade before he moved his hand to the small of her back. He gave her a gentle nudge towards the castle and she took a step.  

"He has to be alright," she whispered to him again as Lady trailed after them.  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a bit early. My dog is getting put to sleep later today and I don't think that I'll be up to the task of posting once it's done and over with. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	4. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I didn't forget about you and this story! I promise, life just got super busy and it's been really hard since my dog passed. Thank you all for the wonderful support! He's in a much better place now and he's not hurting any longer. I hope this chapter is a good length. It's about 10,500 words, so it's a nice long one. Hopefully, it makes up for it being so overdue!  
> Enjoy!

**Part III: Broken**

* * *

_"...I'm falling apart_

_I'm barely breathing_

_With a broken heart that's still beating_

_In the pain, there is healing_

_In your name, I find meaning..."_

* * *

_November 3, 299 AC_

_Winterfell_

Bran's fall had brought a darkness over Winterfell that seemed unbreakable. For over a month, he didn't wake and as the day of their departure drew closer. Stannis wasn't dissatisfied with the way things had happened, but he was annoyed. Catelyn Stark's neglect of her duties had caused a burden to be placed on Sansa's shoulders. His wife handled the situation well and it gave him hope that she'd be able to manage other difficult situations in the future. However, what annoyed him was how exhausted she was every night. Sometimes, she was already asleep when he came to her chambers. Guilt had kept him from waking her and lying with her, but he did desire her. He imagined that she hadn't felt the way his hands had trembled on their wedding night.

She was inexperienced and she assumed that he'd known exactly what he was doing. The truth was that he'd had very little idea of what to do. It was only because of the books at Storm's End did he have a clue where to put his hands or any kind of confidence in his ability to give her some pleasure. Oh, he'd spent plenty of nights reading about how to arouse a woman's body. Books from Essos that had been added to the library at Storm's End by his grandsire had intrigued him to no end. He'd never admit it in the cold light of day, but at night in the candlelight, the detailed drawings of women in the throws of passion with men had triggered the creation of fantasies in his own head. The woman in his dreams that had always participated in such things was always faceless. Recently though, Sansa had replaced the woman. It was Sansa's breasts that he dreamt about and it was her moans that he wanted to hear. In six weeks of marriage, she'd become the center of every fantasy and desire he had ever possessed. He wanted her and he imagined that the duty of siring heirs with her would never feel like a duty.

When darkness gave into dawn, breakfast was served. If there was one thing that Stannis found that he enjoyed, it was breaking his fast early in the morning with Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Both men were like him. They desired a quiet morning meal and time alone to think and organize their day before leaving the hall. Already seat and reading a letter, Stannis looked up when he heard Robb enter the hall.

"You've seen Bran today?" Robb demanded as he took a seat on the closest bench. "He's not going to die. Sansa's stubborn will alone is enough to sustain his life."

"You Starks are very hard to kill," Jon grinned a little as he looked up from the letter he'd been going over from Benjen Stark.

The swishing of skirts alerted the three men to Sansa's arrival and they all stood. She wore a dark green gown that was lined with white rabbit's fur around the neck and wrists. She wore a worried look on her face and quickly grabbed an apple and the bowl of oatmeal that had been placed out for Robb and her twin barely protested. Instead, Robb wore a look of resignation that told Stannis that Sansa's action were far more normal than abnormal.

"I finally convinced mother to lie down," she said breathlessly. "I've ordered her a bath and I need one of you to please sit with Bran. It was the only way I could convince her to leave his side. I have so much to do today."

"I'll do it," Jon replied and Sansa hurried around the table to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," she smiled with relief in her eyes as Stannis felt slightly jealous of her kiss.

"Let Maester Luwin know if there is any changes. I have to go." Sansa hurried out of the hall as a servant came back with a second bowl of oatmeal for Robb.

"Never take a bite out of the first bowl?" Jon said with a slight smile on his face.

"She's stolen more food from me than the whole of Winterfell combined," Robb answered before turning to look at Stannis. "She'll steal from you next. Mark my words, Lord Baratheon."

Jon chuckled and took an apple before leaving them alone in silence. Stannis didn’t reply, but he knew that Robb was wrong. He wouldn't let Sansa's duties become so far out of hand that she'd barely have a moments rest all day. No, at Storm's End she'd have a Housekeeper to direct and a dutiful Lady's Maid to attend to her. He wouldn't see her work herself to exhaustion. Her most important duty was to give his children life and care for them. Nothing could be more important than that.

* * *

Hours later, it was Rickon who'd found her in the kitchens with the housekeeper going over the stores. Robb had joined them to learn more about management of the castle and it made her proud to know that her brother took an interest in every part of his future duties. The peaceful time they were having was interrupted by Rickon's panicked words about their mother attempting to kill Jon. It had confused her for a moment until Rickon had told them in tears saying that something was wrong with Bran and that Mother was going crazy. The run to Bran's room had never seemed so long. Holding her skirts in one hand, Sansa had barely paid attention to anyone as she'd run with Robb and Rickon chasing after her. People stepped out of the way and she could hear her mother's horrid screams of pain the closer they'd got to Bran's room.

Reaching the landing, Sansa was out of breath as Arya stood in the doorway. She looked terrified and frozen in place with wide eyes when Sansa reached her. Looking inside, Sansa gasped in surprise seeing Catelyn attempting to claw Jon in the face with her nails. She was screaming at him as he attempt to hold her wrists. Catelyn's vicious attack didn't stop as she kicked at him.

"You killed him! You murdered him! You should have never been alone with him, bastard!"

Robb pushed through them and grabbed their mother in an attempt to separate her from Jon. Rickon was crying and Arya wrapped an arm around their little brother's shoulder to console him. Watching the scene unfold as Robb wrapped his arms around their mother's waist and tried to hold her back, Sansa looked desperately towards Arya.

"Go get father or Lord Baratheon," she breathed. "Someone, anyone, Arya, go. Quickly and take Rickon with you!"

Looking frightened, Arya took off running with Rickon. Stepping into the room, she attempted to help Robb by grabbing her mother's wrist and after a few minutes of struggling, Sansa managed to free their mother's hands of Jon's hair. Catelyn's long nails dug into her skin, but Sansa barely felt the pain. She was numb with shock. Bran was gone and she'd never seen her mother behave so violently.

"Mother, stop! He didn't kill Bran! Stop!" Robb shouted as he tried to make himself heard over Catelyn's screams. Their mother continued to struggle until she heard Ned's voice. Sansa watched as her father walked into the room and stared down at the bed with dark, depressed eyes. Following his gaze, Sansa felt tears gather. Bran looked like he was sleeping. His face was pale, but relaxed. He didn't look dead, but he didn't look alive either.

"He's at peace, Cat," Ned said softly as he walked towards her. "This is no one's fault."

"Why was your bastard sitting with him?" she demanded and all but spit the word 'bastard' at Jon. Ned nodded to Robb and slowly, her twin let go of their mother and stepped away.

"I asked him to," Sansa admitted softly. "I have had so much to do that I needed help and so I asked him to sit with Bran. You were so tired and everyone was worried about you. It was just for a few hours, Mother."

Fury was evident in Catelyn's eyes as she turned and looked at her. Sansa wasn't prepared when her mother launched herself at her. The stinging feeling of a hand meeting her face was like an out of body experience. Tasting blood in her mouth, Sansa raised a hand to her lip. When she pulled back, there was red on her fingertips. Catelyn went to hit her again, but Ned grabbed her and held on tightly.

"I will not have you hitting my children in my son's sick room," he murmured firmly. "Neither Jon nor Sansa are at fault, Cat. Bran fell. No one could have prevented this from happening. You know what Maester Luwin said. Bran was not likely to make it. He hit his head, Cat. That's what killed him. Nothing else..."

Tearfully, Catelyn looked at Jon and Sansa. Robb moved towards her incase their mother launched herself at them again. Fighting against Ned for a few moments, Catelyn gave up and broke down in tears. Her grief filled wails broke Sansa's heart and there was nothing she wanted to do more than comfort her mother.

"I want you to leave," Catelyn said in shaky voice as she glared at Jon a moment later. "I want you to leave and never come back. I never want to see you again. You should have never been allowed in my son's presence."

"Mother," Sansa tried to intervene, but her mother's angry blue eyes snapped in her direction.

"I want you to leave as well. I dismiss you from your duties. I don't need your help and it's your fault for letting that bastard anywhere near my Bran. My son would still be alive if you hadn't made me leave his side! He was getting better! I know he was. Both of you leave!"

Sansa looked at her mother as her words sank in. It felt as if someone had stabbed her and twisted the blade to cause the maximal amount of pain. Catelyn turned away and didn't look back as she knelt down next to Bran's bed and begged for him to come back. Jon left the room with a defeat look on his face and Sansa couldn't tear her eyes away from her mother's sobbing form. She wanted to scream that Catelyn wasn't the only one who'd lost something. She'd lost a brother and she'd be losing all of them when she went south with her husband. Robb pulled her out of the room and closed the door. His arms went around her and she barely registered his warm hug.

"She doesn't mean it," he whispered confidently. "She's mad with grief and doesn't mean it, Sansa."

She didn't have words, but clung to Robb before pulling away. He brushed away a tear before Rickon poked his head around the corner with tears in his eyes. Robb looked torn between comforting her and their younger brother. Holding onto Robb's hand, Sansa gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go and moving away from him. She wanted to be alone with her grief. Going out of the castle, she barely felt the chilly wind on her skin. It was not a long walk to the lake that was near the castle. Lady trotted up to her from nowhere with sad eyes. Looking down at the direwolf, Sansa was certain that Lady could understand exactly what had happened. The peaceful woods did little to soothe away the feelings brewing inside her.

At the lake, no one was there. The sun caused the light to reflect off the surface. A thousand diamonds looked as if they were glittering and finding a dry patch of grass that wasn't covered by snow, Sansa sat down under a pine tree. Blocked from the sun, Sansa shivered until Lady snuggled up to her. Hugging the direwolf, Sansa blinked quickly as the reality of what had happened began to sink in. Bran was gone and nothing was going to bring him back. From her father's words, Sansa suspected that he'd known all along that Bran wasn't going to live and her mother had lived in cruel hope that her son would come back to them all. She was torn between anger and despair and her heart couldn't decide what she felt more of. Bran had gone somewhere that she couldn't follow and as much as it hurt, Sansa felt a bitterness rise in her heart. Everyone had warned Bran not to climb. Anger beat her despair back and she had never been more angry at Bran than she was in that moment. He'd been told so many times not to climb that they'd all gotten sick of telling him. That reality only fed her anger towards her mother. Catelyn had wanted to blame Jon and her for Bran's death, but Sansa wanted to scream at Catelyn for not having tried harder to stop Bran. There were so many 'what-ifs' swirling around in her head that she'd begun to have a headache.

The moment that she thought about wanting to yell at Bran, grief hit her so hard that she barely suppressed the violent sob that shook her frame. Bran, sweet Bran hadn't meant to cause anyone pain. He'd been loving to all and curious about the world. His only fault had been not being able to prevent himself from falling. Hugging Lady, Sansa sobbed into her fur coat. She wanted Bran back. In fact, she was more than willing to trade places with her brother. He had lived so little and deserved so much more than what had happened. His dreams of being a knight had always entertained her and she mourned that she'd never get to see him fulfill those dreams. A hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Sansa nearly yelped in shock, but was surprised to see Stannis standing over her with a cloak. He dropped it around her shoulders before sitting down next to her. He leaned back against the tree trunk and she tucked herself into his side.

It was uncomfortable at first, both of them were tense. Stannis had never held her like he was now. It was different from how he'd held her before. Stannis was a man, Sansa could never doubt that. He had desires and there was a passion that lurked beneath the surface. His embraces in their marriage bed were proof enough that he burned hot inside and the cool exterior he presented was a facade to the world. The way he held her now was so very different. It wasn't passionate. Instead, there was tenderness about it that made her feel safe as she felt herself relax as slowly as he did.

"Have you come to yell at me too?" She asked as she rested her head against his chest after a long period of silence. "My mother is convinced that Jon and I caused Bran to die."

"Your father told me," Stannis said in his usual gruff tone, but the way he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders told her that he did care about her feelings. "He's looking for you."

"So I can make plans to bury my brother?" Sansa said with tears falling down her cheeks. "I am not the Lady of Winterfell. My mother is and she made her wishes very clear that she doesn't want me attending to any of her duties anymore. She does not want any help and I will respect that."

"Your father needs your help."

"My father...he just wants peace in his house. He doesn't care how my mother treats Jon. So long as Arya doesn't go wild, Robb stays alive and is the heir, Jon stays out of my mother's way, Rickon attends to his lessons, and I behave and stay in the background, he is happy. I've always known that and today...today proved that. Robb is alive, Arya didn't go wild, Jon is now banished and forever out of my mother's way, Rickon went to his morning lessons, I stayed in the background, and Bran is now gone."

"You're wrong," Stannis said quietly, sounding slightly uncomfortable. "Your father loves you and your mother...she is ruled by her grief and your father is trying to hold her together. I remember it being the same way when Renly became sick."

"Your brother?" Sansa asked as she lifted her head to look at him.

He looked mournful for a moment before it faded and he stared out into the distance. The impassive look that he often held in his eyes was present as was the scowl that he wore constantly.

"I was a boy when it happened," he told her. "He was fine one day. I remember it as if had been yesterday. I had been in the gardens with my mother. Renly was a few months old and he was just beginning to learn to how crawl. I was helping him when my mother noticed a small mark on his leg. Within a week, he was gone. Greyscale invaded his cradle and it never left. It broke my mother's heart and she blamed everyone. I remember her beating my brother's wet nurse until my father managed to pry her hands off the girl's throat. I am telling you this not to make you feel worse, but to let you know that your mother is deep in her grief. She doesn't know what she's saying or care who she is hurting."

Sansa let out a shaky breath as she played with the edge of his wool cloak, "I'm sorry about your brother."

Stannis snorted and shook his head. He blindly reached out a hand and held hers. His thumb brushed against her knuckles and she liked the feeling of his skin against hers. She realized just how comfortable and warm she actually was in his embrace. Stannis' chin rested on the top of her head and she felt a tingle down her spine. It felt good being close to him. Robb had given her hugs and held her before, but it wasn't the same as being held by her husband. Her twin's embraces had been a different kind of love, but Stannis had sought her out to comfort her and his embrace...she couldn't describe accurately how it made her feel.

"I am sorry about your brother as well. He didn't deserve such pain."

"I love him," Sansa whispered brokenly. "He was so quiet and he...he'd always help me when I asked. He adored Robb and insisted that he'd be a great knight someday. I'll never get to see him do all that he spoke about."

She desperately wanted to cry, but she stopped herself. Tears would drive Stannis away and she didn't want to let him go. Everyone had described her husband as a man who loathed weakness and tears would only make her weak in his eyes, she told herself and she was not weak.

* * *

Standing by one of the pillars in the small Sept that their father had built for their mother, Sansa watched as the Septon presided over their brother's body. Next to her, Robb shifted quietly. They were the only two people there, lurking in the shadows. At their mother's insistence, Bran was being buried with the new gods, not the old. It had broken their father's heart, but he'd given in to keep the fragile thread of peace that still existed between him and his wife.

"Do you think he was in pain?" Sansa murmured softly.

"No," Robb answered. "I think that it was probably like going to sleep."

"Have you spoken with Mother?"

"No. She won't let anyone except father near her. She wouldn't even comfort Rickon or Arya last night when they were crying. Rickon climbed into my bed and I couldn't find Arya this morning," he said sounding exhausted. "I understand that father wants her to have space, but she can't forget about her other children. She can't forget about us."

Standing up from the hunched position that she'd been in, Sansa moved away from his side. She believed that Catelyn could easily forget about everyone. Never had she seen her mother in such grief and yet, that grief now existed. An all consuming grief that Sansa couldn't comprehend. She had never given or made life, but she imagined the ache that she felt from the loss of Bran was thousands of times more powerful in her mother's breast. Hearing Robb's steps behind her, Sansa left the Sept and wandered into the Godswood.

"It will get better," Robb reassured her as they walked side by side in the quietness. "It won't be like this for long."

"For you, maybe. I am leaving soon with father. King Robert won't be delayed much longer, Lord Baratheon is certain of that. I think that by the time that her grief lessens...I won't be here."

Her twin frowned and Sansa shook her head. Finding a stone bench close, she sat down and was happy to feel Robb's closeness when he sat down with her. The idea of leaving him scared her. Never had she dreamed that they'd be so far apart, but they would be soon.

"We'll both be fine," Robb said softly as if answering her terrified thoughts. "You be a grand lady. Someone that all will envy and I shall be proud to call you my sister. Just as someday I hope that you can be proud to call me your brother."

"I've always been proud that you're my brother. We came into this world together. Don't you remember how the old maester at Riverrun said that I held your hand after we were born and the only way that they could keep us quiet was to place us in the same cradle? I don't think some people understand us, Robb. I do know that you are the only person that I could imagine being with me. You and I are two halves of a whole and no matter the distance between us, nothing can change that. Not time, not distance, not even death. You must know that by now...we are two hearts that have shared everything. There is nothing that I would not do for you. You're my twin, you are my brother. The best brother I have ever known and I am proud to claim as such."

A brilliant smile came to Robb's face as he clutched her hand in his. He gave a gentle squeeze before looking around them and shaking his head.

"Do you know something?"

"What?"

"This is where we taught Bran how to play monsters-and-maidens. Do you remember?"

"There was snow," Sansa smiled sadly. "It had freshly fallen and Jon was with us. Arya was being punished for something and we came out here to play against mother's wishes. You fell and scraped your knee."

"You hid it from mother and said that I fell from a horse. After you actually pushed me off the horse to give better evidence!" Robb laughed. "Bran thought that it was the best thing that he'd ever seen...me letting you push me violently off the horse."

"It was your plan!" Sansa accused with a slight smile. "Bran merely agreed because he wanted to laugh! I don't blame him. The sight of you lying on the ground, groaning about how you hated me, made us all laugh."

"Do you recall how he convinced Jon to take him down to the Hot Springs that one morning and stole Jon's clothes? Poor man was forced to walk naked back to the castle just as all the women were returning from doing the wash."

Sansa joined in his laughed until tears fell from the corner of her eyes. She wiped them away as Robb's deep belly laughs softened into chuckles. Silence soon enveloped them again and Robb squeezed her hand again.

"Promise me something, Sansa," he said softly. "The Prince will do anything to inflict pain and suffering on others. I've watched him with Jon and he's not a good person. I beg you to be careful, Sansa. It's only a matter of time before he tries to hurt you or Arya. I can't protect you or her in the south. You have to look after Arya. She's a hothead that swings first and damns the consequences. She's not like you or I...I know that Jon will be there, but promise me that you will try to look out for her. Teach her if you can to have some restraint."

"I will try," Sansa vowed softly as she squeezed his hand. "As long as you promise to try to help mother see reason that Bran's fall was no one's fault."

Robb said nothing, but he nodded and looked out at the Godswood around them. A peace that she hadn't felt in sometime overtook her and Sansa rested her head on Robb's shoulder. She wasn't sure if this would be the last time that they would ever have the chance to sit with each other and just exist, but she intended to savor every second that existed in the short time that they had left.

* * *

 _November 23, 299 AC_  

Two weeks on the road did little to ease the tension in Sansa's shoulders. Staring at the letter in her hands that had come the day before by raven, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what news came from Winterfell. Her name was scrawled across the front in Robb's neat handwriting and she dreaded breaking the direwolf seal. Her mother's goodbye still hurt bitterly inside. Catelyn Stark had been nothing like the warm mother that she remembered. Her eyes had been cold, detached and Sansa had not even been gifted a hug.  

Her father's disappointed face still was etched into her memory. It had been uncomfortable as her father had tried to convince her mother to hug her, but Catelyn had steadily refused. Hurtful words that left scars on her heart about contributing to the death of Bran had nearly caused her to openly weep and beg for her mother's forgiveness, but Stannis' words had stopped her. Her mother was lost in her grief and her words were not her own. It had taken nearly all of her strength not to cry into Robb's shoulder when he hugged her goodbye. Into her belongings, he'd slipped a book about old Targaryen Lore and included a note wishing her a safe, uneventful journey.  

Sansa had been alone when she'd opened the note and it had caused her to cry. Robb felt like the only person who truly understood that events were in motion that would prevent their family from ever being whole again. Arya had caught her weeping in her tent. The younger girl's reaction had been to call her a foul name, but instead of scolding her, Sansa had felt an overwhelming surge of pity. Arya was just as hurt by their mother's actions as she was and unlike her, Arya had few people to turn to for support. Robb was attempting to shoulder Rickon's grief and his own while Arya attempted to be strong. Their father had been so focused on Bran and Catelyn that Arya had slipped through the cracks despite Robb's valiant effort to try and catch her. If it weren't for Jon's quiet, calm presence, Sansa wasn't sure what she'd have done with Arya on their journey.  

Sitting in the wheelhouse, she was surprised that it stopped. The door opened and Stannis' frowning face greeted her. She could tell from the look on his face that he was not pleased to be stopping again and neither was she. She slipped the letter into her embroidery basket and allowed him to help her out into the daylight. Arya nearly shoved her down from the wheelhouse before taking off to explore. She'd undoubtedly come back dirty and the thought didn't bother Sansa as much as it should have. Her father and Robb had asked her to look after Arya, but like their Aunt Lyanna, Arya had a wild heart that couldn't be tamed with needle and thread. 

Taking Stannis' arm, she held her basket and looked around. She watched as servants and horses moved around them. 

"Why are we stopping?" Sansa asked quietly.  

"Because my brother is hungry and thirsty. He's declared that we've gone far enough for one day," Stannis replied with gritted teeth. Davos appeared looking equally annoyed as her husband before he pointed to a tent that was being erected not far from them. 

"But it's just after midday! There's still plenty of time for travel." 

Stannis ignored her and ground his teeth. It was a habit that she noticed he did when he was annoyed or frustrated at a situation that was out of his control. He'd warned her many nights ago before they'd left Winterfell to expect slow travel, but she barely understood why they only travelled half a day.  

"Your tent, my lord and lady," Davos said calmly.  

"Will you be joining me to ready your letter?" Stannis asked as he looked pointedly at her basket. 

"No, I think that I'll take Jon and find someplace quiet to read and finish my handkerchief."  

Stannis nodded and began walking away. He didn't know how she desperately wanted to say yes, but she knew that she'd never read the letter if he was nearby. He proved to be an easy distraction. Watching Stannis read and reply to various letters was enlightening in many ways. She'd learned that he had a face for different times. Letters from Storm's End or Dragonstone usually resulted in her husband scowling or wearing a fierce look of annoyance. The more she'd watched him, she'd learned that all the stress that he'd carried settled into his shoulders. He looked so tense at various times that Sansa wondered at how his body didn't snap into two pieces. There were other letters that Stannis did receive. An odd friendship existed between Stannis and Lord Varys. According to Davos, Varys and Stannis swapped riddles and tried to outsmart the other. Respect between the two ran deep and although it had never confirmed, Davos believed that a sometime Varys had supported putting Daenerys Targaryen on the Iron Throne. With death of the young woman and her older brother, the Targaryen line had ended and Varys had turned his eye towards Stannis. To what extent Varys could be trusted, Sansa didn't know, but she also knew the history of what had happened to many Starks in King's Landing and vowed not to make the same mistakes. The only time that Stannis almost smiled was when he received letters from Oberyn Martell or Willas Tyrell. Both men were diligent correspondents and Sansa was certain that her husband appreciated it. Like Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas, Stannis enjoyed fine horseflesh and was quite good at a game called War. Davos had tried to explain the moves to her, but it had been far too confusing without a proper board to look at. Her husband played with the two men via correspondence and seemed to genuinely enjoy the letters. 

Finding Jon was not difficult for he favored the company of several older members of the King's Guard. He smiled when she approached and she held up her letter.  

"From Robb," she smiled. "I was hoping to find a quiet place to read this. Perhaps, you could accompany me?"  

Jon nodded and grabbed his sword before tucking a blanket under his arm, "There is a quiet river not too far from here."  

Together, the disappeared into nature and Sansa felt at peace. The trees reminded her of the Godswood and the North. Jon had been correct about the quiet and she relished it. They found a secluded area not far from camp that was shaded. Sitting down on the blanket above the soft grassy earth, Sansa smiled to herself as Jon lounged beside her and bit into a red apple. He reminded her so much of Robb in mannerisms that an ache in her chest developed. The feeling caught her off guard and she swallowed hard. She was pleased that Robb had argued with their father to allow Jon to travel south with her. He'd convinced her father that Jon would find more happiness in the south than he would at the Wall. The details of how exactly her twin had pursauded their father to let Jon come was unclear, but Sansa was happy nonetheless as she broke the seal of the letter.   

 

 _Winterfell_  

 _Dearest Sister,_  

 _I pray that this letter finds you well and that your journey has not be too much of a labor upon you_ _, Jon,_ _and Arya. I swore to you that I would right at the first chance that I had and here I sit, fulfilling_ _my_ _promise. Rickon sits not far from me. Since Arya's leaving and Bran's death, our youngest brother has struggled with his lessons. The best arrangement that I could establish was that he_ _would_ _work beside me in the afternoon after his lessons. It seems to be the_ _only_ _solution at the moment and I hope that you'll praise my plan. I know very little about how to guide Rickon and I am fully aware that I am not_ _F_ _ather, but there_ _in_ _lies my problem, dear sister._  

 _I am not father and I worry for mother. I_ _do not know if Father has received any letters from her, but the situation here grows more bleak with each passing day. I_ _wish that I had happier news to greet you with, but I don't_ _and I mourn that I must pass on such news to you and Father_ _. Mother continues to lock herself in Bran's room and lies on his bed, staring at the wall all day. Not even Maester_ _Luwin seems able to rouse her from her sadness. She will not speak to anyone and every attempt that I have made to speak with her had resulted in my person being injured in someway by her nails_ _or whatever_ _volley_ _she sends my way_ _._ _I should have believed you when you once told me that females have better accuracy than men give them credit for._ _Mother is unable to accept that Bran's death was an accident. I think that she believes that Bran was murdered, but I can't imagine who would want our little brother dead. She has no proof and I believe that her_ _inability_ _to accept our brother's passing will make our lives very difficult._  

 _I know that you are far away, dear sister. However, I beg you to write to her_ _with some comforting words_ _. Perhaps knowing that she is not alone in her grief is the only way to resolve what ails her. I_ _cannot judge her or know her pain, but I worry deeply for her health. Her grief has consumed her and I fear that she has forgotten that she still has Rickon, Arya, you, and myself as her children. Seeing her in such a state has strengthened one resolve that I have established in my heart. You may think that I am silly, dear sister, and I give you leave to laugh if only it brings a smile to your face._  

 _As Mother_ _slips_ _into grief, I resolve to remember Bran and celebrate the life that he was gifted. I will not let his passing bring grief, but instead, I will let his passing remind me of all the wonderful, happy times that he brought to our lives. I will not mourn him because I don't think he'd want any of us unhappy. Instead, I will celebrate the light that he brought to so many and never forget his_ _laughter. I only wish that mother_ _could be made to feel this way. Perhaps it would ease her to remember our little brother as a good,_ _strong boy instead of the broken one he died as._  

 _I shall close this letter by begging your advice on how best to handle household matters. I am limited in such knowledge and trying to_ _accomplish_ _both Mother and Father's duties has become a challenge that I shall_ _eagerly_ _attempt to fulfill. However, any advice you have, twin, would be most welcomed._  

 _Your Loving Brother,_  

_R. Stark_

_Lord of Winterfell & Warden of the North_ 

 

Closing Robb's letter, Sansa sat on the blanket and stared out at landscape. Greens, browns, and blues mixed together and she found herself missing the grey stones of Winterfell. The crisp, cool air always felt like needle pricks against exposed flesh, but it was home to her. Rereading the letter, Sansa wasn't sure how she could write to her mother. She had done her best not to allow herself to be hurt by Catelyn's words, but a small piece of her was hurt.  

"Good news?" Jon asked as Lady laid down in the grass next to her.  

"That depends on what you consider good news," Sansa said carefully before standing and shaking out her skirts. "I'd like to go for a walk. I just need some space to think, Jon. I won't wander far, I promise."  

Lady made a pitiful sound, but Sansa ignored her. Letting her feet carry her away, Sansa held onto Robb's letter tightly. Marriage had made things different and she fear that the damaged relationship between Catelyn and herself would never be healed. Robb had once teased her that she'd become a great Southron Lady. It was a fact now and nothing Robb could say would ease that truth. She was a great Lady. Married to the brother of the King, her marriage had united three of the seven great houses. Just thinking about her husband brought a slight blush to her cheek. No one could tell her that Stannis Baratheon did not do his duty. He was diligent about sharing her bed, even on the road.  

It was never painful or uncomfortable, but it left her always wanting more than he'd given her. He teased her unbearably. A flame would be stroked inside her body and as the flame grew, it was not allowed to bring her any amount of satisfaction. Stannis would take his pleasure and it would leave her in a wretched state for the rest of the night. Unlike Winterfell, Sansa could explore her body to soothe the twisted flames that Stannis stroked to life. No, he left her in a constant state of wantonness that made her blush sometimes when she thought about her desires. Desires that Catelyn had advised her to hide until she'd been married longer... 

Thinking of Lady Catelyn's advice only brought sorrow to her. How she longed for her mother's loving words. When she'd been younger and terrified of the idea of being married, her mother had promised her that she'd write once a week. Catelyn had promised that they'd always have contact and now, uncertainty bloomed in Sansa's chest. Robb wanted her to write to their mother, but she wasn't sure that it would help. Instead of sending Jon to the Wall, Robb had convinced their father to allow Jon to come South. From the look on her mother's face, Sansa knew that Catelyn hated the idea. There was an idea in Catelyn's head that if she were not careful, Eddard would love Jon more than Robb. The notion was silly, but Sansa had no way of dispelling the idea and wondered if writing to Catelyn would only inflame the situation. Robb's letter was not as comforting as he tried to make it. Writing to their mother like he urged might only strengthen her notions surrounding Bran's death.  

Realizing that she'd walked further then she'd intended, Sansa frowned and looked up when she heard shouting. Recognizing Arya's voice, she gathered the blue fabric of her skirts and ran towards the sounds. Coming to a clearing, Sansa paused for a whole minute as she took in the scene. Nymeria stood close by with her teeth barred. The deep, violent growls coming from the direwolf made her worried as she moved to break up the fight that was happening between Arya and Prince Joffery. Her sister was mounted on top of the boy and swinging her fists at him. The Prince cried for mercy and tried to shield his face from Arya's blows.  

"Stop it, Arya!" Sansa exclaimed as she tried to pull her sister off the prince.  

"You deserve Nymaria's bite!" Arya shouted as she flailed her limbs at Joffery. The pain of Arya's elbow meeting with Sansa's breast caused her to let go before quickly changing her tactics. Managing to grab hold of Arya's wrists, Sansa jerked her sister up from Joffery and hauled her back.  

"Let me go," Arya screamed. "I'll teach him a lesson! I'll show him what happens to bullies!" 

"I'm telling Mother what you've done!" Joffery yelled back. "You ugly cunt!" 

The Golden Prince hoisted himself up and ran. Still holding tightly onto Arya, Sansa fell her knees on the ground and looked her sister in the eyes. 

"What happened?" She demanded urgently. "What happened, Arya?" 

Fire was alive in Arya's eyes and fighting Sansa's grip, she stopped when Sansa let go and cradled her arm to her chest and cupped her left breast. The sound of Sansa hissing in pain caused Arya to settle and she shook her head.  

"He's a monster," she pronounced angrily. "Mycah and I were playing when Joffery happened upon us. He challenged Mycah to fight him and pulled out his real sword. Mycah refused and Joffery cut his cheek! Nymeria attacked Joffery and he tried to stab her so I attacked him. He's a bully and it serves him right!" 

Looking at Nymeria, Sansa remembered Robb's words... _The Prince will do anything to inflict pain and suffering on others._ _.._ _I beg you to be careful,_ _Sansa. It's only a matter of time before he_ _tries to hurt you or Arya. I can't protect you or her in the south. You have to look after Arya. She's a hothead that swings first and damns the consequences. She's not like you or I..._  

Seeing a stone in the grass not far from her hand, Sansa grabbed it. Throwing it as hard as she could at the direwolf, Nymeria yelped and went running into the woods. Arya looked even more furious as she glared. 

"You hurt my wolf and she ran away! Why would you do that?"  

"You attacked the Prince and the Queen will want revenge for that," Sansa snapped. "She will most likely order the direwolf skinned and the Gods only know what kind of horrors Joffery will try to inflict on her. It's for the best, Arya." 

Her sister stared back at her with fire in her eyes. Not paying attention, Sansa gasped in pain again when Arya purposefully hit her breast with her fists. Taking off after Nymeria, Arya disappeared into the tree line as the shouts of several men could be heard. Her father was the first to break through the tree line followed closely by an out of breath Jon.  

"What happened?" Ned demanded as Jon helped her to her feet. Dropping her arms, Sansa quickly told both her father and brother everything that Arya had said. She also told them about sending the direwolf away. Ned looked frustrated and more worried than she'd ever seen him. He gave Jon instructions to take her back to camp and leave Ghost and Lady with her. Ned went walking towards the trees and disappeared into the forest.  

"She's so foolish," Sansa snapped in frustration as Jon put a hand on her spine to guide her back towards the camp. He walked her to the tent that she'd been sharing with Stannis and she was surprised to see her husband walk out of a different tent after Robert. He wore a scowl on his face and he didn't even spare her a second glance as Ned reappeared and walked towards both men.  

"Father didn't find her," Sansa said softly as Robert's face turned purple with fury. He barked out orders and Jon whistled. Ghost came running and skitted to a stop in front of Sansa. Lady followed and both direwolves sensed that they were needed inside the tent. Not knowing what else to do, Sansa left Jon outside with strict instructions to let her know the moment that they found Arya.   

* * *

Staying inside the large circular tent, Sansa paced anxiously in front of the small fire. Ghost and Lady both laid near her and whined every so often. Hours passed and with each passing minute, her anxiety built. Camp was quiet except for the two dozen or so soldiers that had been left behind to guard the royal family and maesters that tended to the Prince. Every so often, Sansa would hear Joffery's yells from the tent not far from hers. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but she knew that he said nothing good. The sun had long since set and her stomach had begun to growl with hunger when Stannis entered the tent wearing a fierce scowl. She stopped pacing and restrained herself from spitting out all the questions that were swirling around in her head.  

"Did you find her?" She finally asked, but couldn't stop the anxiety in her voice.  

"Yes," he growled. "The king wishes to see you. It appears you are the only one who was witness to what happened."  

Sansa paled slightly and felt faint, but she nodded. Stannis turned sideways and held out his arm towards the flaps of the tent. Quickly going, Sansa found herself in the king's tent surrounded by people she didn't know. Many of them had the golden crown of the House Lannister and it made her feel even more uncomfortable. Robb's words were repeated over and over again in her head. Beckoned to the front, Sansa swallowed when she saw her father's stony face. His hand was placed on Arya's shoulder. The action could have been described as protective, but Sansa knew it was to prevent Arya from running away.  

"Come forward, Lady Baratheon," Robert grunted. "Tell us what happened and tell it true. Why were you out by the river?"  

Standing before the King, Queen and Prince Joffery, Sansa took a deep breath, "I was reading, Your Grace. The camp was noisy and I had gotten a letter from my brother that I wished to read in the quietness of the woods with Jon." 

"And what was this letter about?" 

"My mother," she answered softly. "Since my brother's death...she hasn't been well and Robb was writing to ask for advice on a household matter. He was also writing to pass on word about how my mother is behaving. He's worried for her and has no one at Winterfell to express his worries to. I am here with my father, Jon, and Arya. Rickon is too little and it is unseemly to speak about such fears to a servant. I have already violated much of his trust by telling you this in front of an audience." 

Robert stared at her and judged her words for a minute before nodding. He believed her and that was all that mattered.  

"And when did you know that something had happened?"  

"I went for a walk and I heard my sister yelling. I went to find out what had happened." 

"Why didn't you return to camp?" 

"I didn't think that anyone would want to have been bothered by the squabbles that my sister finds herself in often. Had I know that it would be this grave, I assure you that I would have summoned anyone of authority from camp to help. However, I had believed it to be just my sister and history tells me that it is better to separate her from the fight and ask questions later." 

Robert nodded as Cersei scowled, "The little beast attacked my son!" 

"Quiet woman!" Robert roared and Sansa jumped a little in surprise. She'd never seen a man speak to his wife in such a way, but she told herself that it probably happened more times than she cared to think about. Still scowling at his wife, Robert raised a hand and motioned for her to continue.  

"I walked to the clearing by the river and came across Arya and the Prince brawling on the ground. I pulled them apart and Prince Joffery returned to camp. When I asked my sister what had happened, she told me that she'd been playing with the butcher's boy, Mycah, and when Prince Joffery came across them, he challenged Mycah to a duel. When Prince Joffery attacked Mycah with a true sword after the boy refused, Nymeria attacked the Prince and he tried to stab the wolf. That's when Arya intervened and the brawl started. That's what she told me, Your Grace. I know nothing more." 

"And the wolf?" 

"I don't know what happened to the wolf," Sansa stated. "For all I know, Joffery could have stabbed it." 

"You're a liar!" Arya roared and all eyes turned to her. "You chased Nymeria off after throwing a rock at her! She's gone and it's your fault. I couldn't find her anywhere and it's all your fault!" 

"Pardon her, Your Grace," Ned growled as he glared down at Arya with narrowed eyes. "The girl doesn't know what she's saying."   

Feeling a presence appear at her side, Sansa was shocked to see Stannis standing next to her with his hands clasped behind his back.  

"Will that be all, Your Grace?" Stannis asked curtly. "It's been a long day and I am sure that Lady Baratheon would like to rest from the strain the events of the day." 

"Yes," Robert grunted. 

"I demand satisfaction!" Cersei growled. "The girl is as wild as that animal that mauled my son." 

"Damn it, Cersei. Children fight. It's over and I will hear no more of it." 

"Joffery will have a scar the rest of his life. He'll have the bruises that Lady Arya inflicted on him for sometime. She should be punished." 

Robert looked towards Joffery and glowered, "You let that little girl disarm you and beat you to bloody pulp practically and came crying back to your mother? Ned, you see to it that your daughter is disciplined and I'll see to that my son is as well."  

"Gladly, Your Grace." 

"And what of the direwolves?" Cersei hissed. 

"Put them in a cage," Stannis ground out with his clenched teeth. "The wolf who is wild is gone. I see no reason why you should want to harm the others. As it stands, the only direwolf that Ned Stark has the ability to punish would be Jon Snow's. I shall not be killing any direwolves tonight and neither should Lord Stark. Perhaps this incident will teach Prince Joffery how not to provoke wolves. It is best not to kill Lady or Ghost." 

"Grown attached to the wolf your wife keeps with her?" Cersei sneered.  

"It makes my nights far more restful knowing that the creature will rip out any assailants throat," Stannis snapped back. "Tonight only makes my resolve that much firmer to keep Lady around." 

"Stop it!" Robert bellowed and slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. "I will hear no more of this event. Lady Baratheon, I will make a request to have your presence in King's Landing with your brother, sister and father. Perhaps you can help to mend the bridge between my son and your sister before they are married. You seem to be the only person here besides my brother and your father with an ounce of common sense in you and isn't a bloody Lannister. I shan't take 'no' to this offer." 

Sansa paled considerably and looked to Stannis. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was glaring at Robert and grounding his teeth. She didn't know what to do and Robert's idea of building a bridge between Joffery and Arya was ridiculous. Her sister was too wild for the south and for the first time, Sansa wondered if Robert understood that. Joffery and Arya weren't compatible, but until they both matured and accepted that they were betrothed, there was very little she could do to build anything. In fact, even if she could, Sansa doubted that either Joffery or Arya would participate in any building, bridge or relationship. Neither was willing and they were too different.  

Arya was like the wild winds of the north. Spirited and unable to stay in one place for long. The only way that Joffery would ever tame the wind was if he broke Arya's spirit and Sansa wondered if perhaps the Prince was the only person in the world that could. Robb had been correct. There was viciousness that laid beneath the surface and she could see it in Joffery's eyes. He desired to hurt others to prove himself and if Arya wasn't careful, Joffery would simply break her to prove a point. Her sister hadn't been raised as she had. From the earliest memory Sansa had, Catelyn had told her never to expect love. Love was a wonderful gift, but it wasn't a necessity for a happy life or marriage. Catelyn had molded her and Arya...she hadn't been molded like Sansa had. There was a spirit inside her and Sansa was sure that her mother had given up as well as the septa.  

"I spoke to you, Lady Baratheon," Robert snapped. "I expect an answer." 

 Sansa blushed from embarrassment and before she could reply, Stannis spoke. 

"She will go," he said. "She'll go on the condition that you spare the lives of the direwolves and that after three months, she'll be escorted to Storm's End where she will perform her duties as the Lady of Storm's End." 

"Agreed," Robert snapped back. 'Although, I doubt that three months will be enough time to rehabilitate my son and future good-daughter." 

"Then send Lady Arya to Storm's End as well to learn how to be a lady." Stannis suggested through clenched teeth. "Clearly, she is not ready to be in the presence of others." 

Arya looked like she was ready to protest, but Ned squeezed her shoulder tightly to silence her.  

"Fine," Robert grunted. "I'll hear no more of this. It's late and I am to bed." 

The tent was quickly cleared out and outside, Sansa looked worriedly at her husband. She wasn't prepared for Arya's hard hit to her tender breast for a third time that day. Sansa gasped in pain as Ned grabbed Arya and hauled her into his arms.  

"You sent her away!" Arya yelled. "It's all your fault! Nymeria did nothing wrong!" 

"Be silent!" Stannis hissed in such away that Arya recoiled looking frightened. "You will not say anything further. Is that understood? I will not hear anymore accusations from your mouth. It was not your sister who stupidly attacked the crown today, was it? You are lucky that she didn't lie to gain favor with the King as others would have. I doubt that the Lannisters care you’re the daughter of Ned Stark. They'd happily put your head on spike for what you did to the Prince."  

Arya looked taken aback by Stannis' words and his fierce glare. Not bothering to hear what her sister was going to say next, Sansa quickly walked away from her husband. Back at their tent, she was happy to see that Lady was still curled up by the fire with Ghost. Standing at the foot of the makeshift bed, Sansa tried to tug at the laces that kept the back of her traveling gown together. Her maid normally did the duty, but the girl was nowhere to be found and it frustrated Sansa to no end.  

Just as she was about to give up and sleep in her gown, rough hands pushed her away. Peering over her shoulder, Sansa wasn't completely surprised to see her husband. Rather, she was surprised at his helping her. He struggled for a moment to undo the laces before figuring out how they were done. Her gown was pushed off her shoulders and her corset was unlaced next. Before long, all her clothing was on the ground around her ankles. Wearing only her shift, Sansa turned around to face him. 

Her breath caught in her throat when he unlaced the front of her shift and pushed it down over her shoulders. The final piece of clothing fell away and Sansa stood bare. The night time air prickled her skin. They weren't far enough south for the night to be considered warm and she was desperate for the furs. Stannis stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving the sight of her breasts. She supposed that he favored that part of her body the most. His hands and lips seemed to spend the most time kissing, licking, and caressing her there. Sometimes, all he had to do was to tug at her hard nipple and she felt a pulse of pleasure shoot to the junction of her thighs.  

Stannis' hand reached out and gently cupped her tender breast. A bruise was forming from Arya's hits and he wore a frown on his face. He didn't touch her bruise directly, but he brushed his thumb back and forth across her nipple. She suppressed a wanton moan that threatened to escape from her lips as she closed her eyes. His breath warmed her skin as he leaned down and lightly pressed his lips against her nipple.  

"Do you know how to swim?" He asked a moment later.  Sansa nodded with a confused expression on her face as Stannis undid his doublet and tossed it aside. She missed the feeling of his lips against her nipple. She wanted her tongue to lavish it and suckle on it until he slipped a finger into her fold and rubbed.  

"Good," he murmured as he lowered his head to her breast again. "We'll go swimming tomorrow. Robert is so far into his cups already that I doubt any travel will be possible. You could smell the wine on him from the back of the tent."

All Sansa could do was nod as she let her husband light a flame of pleasure within her.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Sansa is for King's Landing, Bran is gone, and Catelyn is hurting. 
> 
> I know that not everyone will be happy with Catelyn, but please keep in mind that grief has a way of making irrational and she really is being irrational. Robert's reasons for wanting Sansa to come to King's Landing will be explored more next chapter! 
> 
> See you soon!


	5. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned is freed and Sansa faces challenges...

**Part IV: Ghost**

* * *

_"...I keep going to the river to pray_

_'Cause I need something to wash away the pain_

_And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away_

_But your ghost, the ghost of you_

_It keeps me awake..."_

* * *

_March, 300 AC_

_Near Dragonstone..._

Ned Stark sat below deck as the ship rocked and swayed. To him, the motions had always been relaxing, but they gave very little comfort now. He'd never quite felt like such a failure as a father and the feeling was leaving him raw with self-loathing. Arya sat next to him with her knees to her chest, looking just as frightened as she'd been in King's Landing.

"Will Sansa be alright?" she asked softly with a scared expression. "She...she isn't with us. And what about Jon? Will he be alright? I haven’t seen him in days!"

He swallowed hard. Ned had no clear answer for his youngest daughter. Jon had gone missing when the kingsguard had come to arrest them all. So much had happened in the ten weeks that they'd been in King's Landing that he barely understood how the affairs had become so tangled. He had always recognized that no one in the capital was his friend and Sansa had agreed with him, urging that he trust no one. His daughter seemed more politically apt at playing the game than he was. Even his quiet Jon was able to play the game better than his own father. Jon had been Sansa’s shadow from the very moment they had entered the city and had never left her.

Whatever conversation Sansa had had with Stannis Baratheon before their parties had separated had made Sansa weary of those around her. He’d seen it in her eyes. Ned wondered just how much she knew about the events surrounding the Red Keep and it sometimes made him curious to know if she knew more than he did at times. Lord Varys seemed to be one of the few people that his daughter trusted and he couldn't begin to understand the complex relationship that Sansa shared with the Spider. Somehow, it seemed that because Stannis trusted the Spider, Sansa did as well. Every afternoon for the first few weeks, she'd walk with Varys and Jon in the gardens until news came from the North, very unwelcomed, ill-timed news.

Robb's frantic letter about Caitlyn's mental decline had sent Ned into a worried state. His wife's arrival in the capital had thrown him into a corner as Petyr Baelish had been quick to support Caitlyn's paranoid thoughts that Cersei Lannister had been responsible for Bran's fall. He fed her lies and Ned had been helpless to stop her from being seduced by Petyr’s wicked ways. Sansa had urged to him open admit that Lady Stark was in the city, but Ned had feared it would only cause trouble. He did all he could to stop his wife from marching to the Red Keep and accusing Cersei Lannister of murder. For hours, Caitlyn had vividly described the hair that she'd found in the abandoned tower in such detail that Ned believed that Robb had been hesitant in describing just how ill Caitlyn had become. To no avail, he hadn't been able to convince his own wife that one single strand of blonde hair was not enough to accuse the Queen of Westeros of murdering their son.

Sansa had offered to speak with her, but Caitlyn had refused to see her eldest daughter. Bran's death had altered something inside Caitlyn so fundamental that she'd been someone that he barely recognized. Caitlyn had left quietly in the night with a group of soldiers, but her visit had put a strain on Sansa. A strain in the weeks after had developed into something more. Ned had watched Sansa struggle to reconcile herself to her position, her fall from grace in Caitlyn’s eyes, and dealing with Arya.

Agreeing to a marriage between Arya and Joffery had been a mistake. No amount of growing would change either child; Sansa had convinced him of that. Arya was determined to hate the prince for insulting her pride and being the root cause of losing Nymeria, and Joffery...there was something wrong with the boy. Ned had seen it in the first few weeks of living in the capital. The way the boy looked at his eldest daughter sent a shiver down his spine and he’d made certain that Sansa always had extra guards with her when she went about her daily duties. Jon would die for her, but Ned doubted his oldest son would be enough to protect Sansa from the wicked looks from the new king.

There was only one explanation to Joffery Baratheon's sickness and Ned had discovered it within a month of investigating Jon Arryn's death. Born of incest, Joffery's tortured mind was no fault of his own. A quick note to Stannis had been sent, but Ned hadn't dared to send anything more than a cryptic message via Sansa. His daughter had written a note of her own and enclosed his words in hers. The news that she'd sent had been far happier than his. News of his impending status as a grandsire had caught him off guard, but he'd been happy for her and Stannis. It had explained her tired expression and as the ship rocked, Ned wanted to beat himself with a cane. He should have taken better care of Sansa and Jon. The Gods only knew how many times he'd failed her as a father and he'd failed her again. He’d failed both his children in different ways by not controlling Caitlyn.

Instead of moving slowly like Stannis Baratheon would have suggested, Ned had been quick to bring the information he knew against the queen. He hadn't planned that Cersei Lannister would order the arrest of his household in retaliation for Caitlyn's arrest of Tyrion Lannister in the Vale or his accusations against her. His last, desperate note out of the capital had been to Robb begging his son to control Caitlyn at all costs. His wife's selfish need to punish someone for Bran's death had only made his situation in the capital dire.

Arya had been oblivious to the noose tightening around their necks, but Sansa, his clever Sansa and brave Jon had felt the rope. Everyday Sansa had looked more and more worried as she’d pace around the sitting rooms. Even though he'd encouraged her to try and relax for the sake of her unborn child, she hadn't been able to heed his advice. Even Jon had been unable to convince her to rest. In the last week before Robert's death and their arrests, Sansa had been quiet and secretive. At one point, she’d gone to see Lord Varys and had been enclosed in a private room with him for nearly an hour. Jon hadn’t been privy to the on goings of the meeting, but Sansa had simply told both him and Jon that she was speaking to Varys on behalf of Stannis. Looking back, Ned wondered if she knew what was bound to happen.

Robert's death had shocked him and his swift arrest had been unsurprising given his stupidity. Only a few select members of his household had been spared. Sansa and Jon had been led away to a wheelhouse and chains had been clapped on his wrists. Imprisoned, his only companion had been the darkness and Lord Varys. The Spider had paid him several visits during which Ned was given vague updates on the condition of his family and political matters. Arya had gone missing during the arrest of his household. Sansa was being confined to the royal apartments that Stannis Baratheon occupied when he lived in King's Landing with Jon as her companion. Arya’s dancing master, Syrio, had been spared at Sansa’s begging and strangely, Joffery had granted the request. The capital was in chaos and he was helpless to do anything as he sat in the darkness alone wonder what was happening outside. The last piece of news that the spider had brought Ned was surprising.

Robb's response to the political shit-storm that had happened was to write letters instead of gathering an army. His heir had tried to use diplomatic means to untangle the mess that had been created. The Acting Warden of the North had sent several letters to the court of King Joffery stating that his mother was mentally unwell while begging pardon for her reprehensible actions and offering any means to make amends. Varys had left Ned Stark feeling deeply ashamed by simply commenting that the only two Starks who seemed able to play the Game of Thrones were ironically twins who didn't partake in any sick, twisted incest.

Before Ned could be brought before Joffery to beg for his life, a hood had been forced over his head and he'd been whisked away from King's Landing in the dead of the night. The familiar rocking of the ship had been comforting when he’d had no idea what was happening. Arya had been on the ship as well and never had she hugged him so tightly. Her rushed explanation of being spirited away by a blacksmith that had been sent by a mysterious benefactor had left him only more confused, but convinced that help was being given to them by an ally, not an enemy.

Hearing the sounds of boots, Ned was drawn out of his thoughts as Prince Oberyn Martell descended the steps and joined them below deck. The Red Viper looked surprisingly calm and relaxed as he rub an apple on the yellow silk sleeve of his robe.

"For you," he said in calm voice as he held out an apple. "You must be hungry."

"Thank you, but I must ask who sent you?" Ned asked before he accepted the apple as Arya shifted closer to him. As much as she tried to prove that she was not a dainty girl, she was still a child. A frightened child, who didn't understand what was happening around her as she realized the world was far more dangerous than she imagined. She eyed the apple hungrily and Ned passed it over to her before wrapping an arm around her shoulders protectively.

Oberyn smiled sadly, "I was sent by someone who loves you. While I have never been a friend of Robert Baratheon, his brother has always been an ally. Stannis was the first person besides yourself to speak out in disgust about the rape and murder of my sister. He supported sending Elia and her children back to Dorne instead of punishing them. I remember reading a letter he wrote me long ago...he was desperate to see my sister and her children live. When Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon had them murdered, it was because of you and Lord Baratheon that my sister's body along with her children's bodies were able to be laid to rest. There are only a few good men in the seven kingdoms and I consider you and him to be among them. When I was contacted to help, I could not refuse the request."

"That doesn’t not answer my question of who sent you to help us," Ned answered calmly.

"Lord Varys contacted me on behalf of the person who wanted you rescued," Oberyn said grimly. "He was determined to see both you and your daughter rescued from the clutches of the Lannisters."

“He?”

"And Sansa?" Arya demanded hotly, finally finding her voice after swallowing a bite of her apple. "Why didn't you save her?"

"She is the aunt of the king," Oberyn explained gently as he smiled sadly at her. "Would it not raise suspicion if she were to have disappeared into the night with her traitor father and siblings? No, it was too great a risk to steal her away. Varys agreed that it was too dangerous to send her and it is safer for her where she is. Guards surround her and taking her would raise the alarms in the Red Keep. No one guards the dungeons quite as heavily as the Lannisters guard her now. Besides, it is safer for her to be in the middle of the snake pit with Jon Snow where she is less likely to be bitten.”

Arya looked confused, but Oberyn continued, “Stannis Baratheon will now challenge Joffery's rule and his crown. Letters have already been sent to all the great houses of Westeros. Your sister, Lady Sansa Baratheon, she is now in the eyes of many the rightful queen. She's too big of a bargaining chip in the Lannisters eyes to lose so easily and they will protect her. If something should happen to her, it would leave them with no leverage to secure whatever they need. Your sister’s imprisonment will not be easy, but her life is secured as well as your brother, Jon."

Arya stared at the Dornishman with wide eyes as if she finally understood for the first time what everything meant. Ned closed his eyes as a wave of guilt overtook him. He'd abandoned Sansa in a snake pit carrying the only true heir to the seven kingdoms. It was only a matter of time before the Lannisters discovered that she carried Stannis Baratheon's heir. Knowing what the Lannisters were capable of, Ned feared for the safety of her and her child. Tywin Lannister had proven that he was willing to kill innocent children and a feeling of dread overwhelmed him.

Would Sansa and her child be subjected to the same fate as Elia Martell?

"We'll be arriving in Dragonstone soon," Oberyn continued before standing. "You're welcome to come above deck and see the view. Once we arrive, there will be much to discuss."

* * *

_March 25, 300 AC_

_King's Landing_

_The Red Keep_

Sansa had never felt so weak or tired in her entire life. Sleep had become a luxury that she could barely afford most nights and the night before had been no different. Not even Stannis’ rooms gave much comfort. There were obvious signs that the ten room apartments belonged to her husband and they reflected what little she knew about his personality that it caused her to smile bitterly. Sitting in the small enclosed alcove in her husband's apartments, she ran a hand over the slight swell that was growing beneath her heart. The warm sun warmed her skin as she closed her eyes. Breeze coming off the sea smelt like salt and for a single moment, she imagined that she wasn’t in King’s Landing. She was in a forigen bedchamber that she conjured up in her mind and Stannis was there. Sitting on the edge of her bed, his large hand rested over her lower belly. The moment faded as the sound of boots on the stone floor reached her ears. 

Opening her eyes, Sansa turned and watched as Jon walked closer to her. He was dressed and wore a scowl across his face that she’d become accustomed to seeing. It reminded her of her lord husband and she imagined that if he were with her, he’d be like a caged animal, pacing the room and annoyed. Jon was sleeping in the spare dressing room that was reserved for her maid, but considering that Cersei Lannister had murdered the young girl that had been brought with her from Winterfell, Sansa felt safe knowing that Jon was nearby to protect her and the baby.

Stannis had sent her a book in response to her letter about being with child. A coded message that she’d realized he’d sent to her as promised. Faint dots made by a lead pen above certain words had spelt out a simple sentence. He’d said nothing of being happy. Instead, he’d told her to be on her guard and protect herself. It was all he’d written and yet, she imagined that some part of him was happy with the news. So much had changed and yet, the sun still rose and fell at night without fail, and in six moons, her child would be born.

“They haven’t brought food yet,” Jon said sourly as he stared at the empty table. “I asked the maid, but she ignored my request. If something happens to you on my watch, Lord Baratheon will murder me.”

“No, he won’t.” Sansa reassured him as he moved to sit next to her, “He’ll be glad that you are my brother and here with me now.”

“I don’t like this,” he whispered. “This doesn’t feel right, Sansa. Waiting everyday for Joffery to call us to court…I don’t like the feeling.”

“There is nothing that we can do,” she whispered back. Hearing the doors of their prison doors open, she turned her head. Varys crossed the open expanse of the rooms as the guards closed the doors. His servant carried a tray of tea and refreshments. Stannis had been correct that she could trust Varys. He had not betrayed her like she had expected him to. Instead, he had become instrumental in her attempts to save her father and sister. Varys gave a slight nod of his head towards her and she nodded back. He could not bow before her, but she understood that he acknowledged silently that her husband was the true king and she the one true queen.

"I trust you slept well, my lady," he said gently before dismissing the servant. The young girl scurried out of sight before Varys poured her a cup of tea. "Have the kitchens sent you food to break your fast?"

“No,” Jon answered briskly. “The keep rationing out meals for her and I think that a masester needs to see her, Lord Varys. I’m worried about her health.”

Accepting the cup of tea he offered, Sansa took a few sips before placing the cup and saucer down on the table before her. She couldn’t hide her condition from Jon. He heard her sickness and knew when she wasn’t able to sleep. Varys watched her with the same degree of concern that Jon wore on his face often when speaking of her babe.

“I’m fine, Lord Varys,” she lied softly. “There is no need to alert any maester yet.”

In truth, she was exhausted and had no appetite. Anxiety plagued her constantly and even though she told herself that she had to rest for her child, Sansa could hardly bring herself to relax enough to sleep. She was desperate to ask Varys about her father and sister. He had agreed to help her, but he'd made her vow never to speak of the matter. At every turn a spy was watching and listening, ready and willing to report back to their master. Varys had his own spies, but even he could not always control the information that was passed along from spy to master. Instead of telling him of her worries, Sansa merely smiled.

"I slept perfectly well,” she continued. “His Grace is kind enough to give me such comfortable accommodations, how could I not rest well in my husband’s rooms? Do not sound ungrateful, Jon. His Grace is all kindness and I will not hear you speaking against the kindness he has showed us despite our father’s betrayal." 

Jon looked like he was actively biting his tongue to keep from saying what he truly wanted, but Sansa’s eyes met his and he understood that her words were guarded.

“Of course, sister,” Jon said with a forced smile. “His Grace is all kindness in his allowances.”

Varys' face remained impassive, but a small vial was slipped out from inside his robes. 

"For sleep," he murmured so softly that she barely heard him. "A few drops before bed should be enough. It won't harm the child and is far better than what the Grand Maester would give you. I do agree with Ser Jon."

“Is that what I am called now?” Jon asked as Sansa took the vial and slipped it into her gown. Pycelle had been alerted to her condition and her fears multiplied. If Pycelle knew, it was almost guaranteed that Cersei and Joffery knew of her unborn child.

“Queen Cersei has asked that the small council grant you the title of Ser Jon Snow,” Lord Varys said with a smile. “She fears that it would be improper to have a man of any lesser rank acting as escort to Lady Baratheon. It is also to commemorate your bravery in helping to expose your traitorous father to the crown.”

Jon raised his brows as Sansa nodded in acknowledgement. The sound of doors opening and the announcement of Queen Cersei’s arrival sent a thrill of fear through Sansa’s heart. Varys stood as Jon was at her side, assisting her to stand. His hand rested protectively on her back and he cupped her elbow.

“My Queen,” Sansa said as Jon helped her to execute a curtsy and protect her from falling over and humiliating herself. She felt slightly dizzy and immediately wished she could sit back down. As if knowing exactly what her wish was, Cersei smiled as she stopped before them.

“Do sit down, Lady Baratheon, I hear that you are with child and it is not good for a woman of your condition to stand.”

Sansa merely nodded as Jon helped her to sit down again and stood at her shoulder, a hand resting protectively on her shoulder blade. Varys remained standing with a tranquil expression on his face and his hand clasped together. Placing a hand protectively on the slight swell of her belly, Sansa swallowed hard as Cersei stared at her with cold green eyes before sitting down in the seat that Lord Varys had occupied moments before.

“So, the rumors are true. You are with child.”

“I am to give Lord Baratheon a child,” Sansa confirmed without a tremor in her voice. “I am sure that you already knew of such wonderful news, Your Grace. I hope that our king is happy with the news that he is to be a cousin. I am sure this child will love him and be as equal devoted as any good, loyal subject.”

"Yes, I am sure the child will be devoted,” Cersei said. “I merely came to see for myself that you are in fact with child. Tell me, has the sickness begun? With Joffery, I was ill morning, noon, and night. He barely gave me any rest and I felt that it was a miracle that I lived to birth him at all.”

“I do have some sickness,” Sansa replied, feeling Jon tense behind her. “Only in the evening and early mornings. I haven’t felt the babe kick yet, but I will share the joyous news with you the moment that it happens. 

Sansa suspected that her new maid had told Cersei all the intimate details of her life and that nothing she said was in any way new information. They were simply playing that game that was played a court between two people and she realized that Cersei was far more seasoned and practiced than she was. In order to beat the Lannisters, she’d have to play the game and become better than they were. It was a task, but it was a task that she had to face to protect both Stannis and their child.

“Your twin has foolishly declared himself and the North at the disposal of Lord Baratheon. We received word this morning that your brother knelt and declared his support of Stannis Baratheon as the one true king. How quickly your brother changes sides! Only a few weeks ago he was writing, asking for forgiveness on behalf of your insane mother. How does one explain such a thing?”

“I do not dare to explain my traitorous brother’s actions. I do not know why he has betrayed the king. I can only tell you that King Joffery has my undying allegiance,” Sansa said diplomatically. Her hands shook with fear, but she clenched her fist and did her best to hide it. Schooling her features into one of indifference, Sansa let Cersei study her with narrowed eyes.

“Things are changing. Will you be there today for my son’s small tourney?”

“Of course!” Sansa answered, “Anything to please, King Joffery. It is his name day and I would wish him all the joys and happiness that comes with such a momentous occasion.”

Sansa smiled politely until the older woman rose and looked down on her with a slight sneer on her pretty face.

"Do you ever feel a connection with him?" Cersei asked with a leading tone. "A connection that you feel with no other person? Is he not a living, breathing part of your beating heart?"

"My child, my twin, or my husband?" Sansa replied carefully with a frown. "My child is a part of my heart, but Robb...he might share a connection with me that no one else can replicate, but he is only my brother, Your Grace. He's not my husband or my lover. The only affection that I feel for him is that of a sister."

A look of anger overcame Cersei's face and for a single moment, Sansa feared for her safety. She'd revealed too much and the small look of warning Varys shot her confirmed her suspicion. As quickly as Cersei's look of anger appeared, the look disappeared and her sneer returned.

"Of course, but he is the son of a traitor now and a traitor in his own right."

"Yes, milady, my family are traitors."

"And you are the wife of a traitor."

"I have had no part in the actions of my husband," Sansa said softly. "I know nothing of his plans or what he intends to do, Your Grace. If I did know, I assure you that I would tell His Grace all that I know without hesitation. My nephew, Joffery Baratheon, will be a great king and I would see anyone who tries to usurp his rule subdued as I am certain you would."

Her words seemed to pacify Cersei and the Queen Regent stood and left the apartments without another word. Guards trailed after her until the doors to the apartment were closed and locked. Leaning back into the cushioned chair, Sansa cupped her forehead as she felt a headache coming on. Food arrived moments later and the smells made her stomach churn.

"It's best not to provoke the lion," Varys told her quietly as he poured more tea. “They do have claws and bite.”

“Yes,” Sansa said half-heartedly as she stared and memory possessed her…

… _Walking down the banks towards the icy lake that was some distance from camp, Sansa did her best not to dread swimming. The water of the south was not like the hot springs in the north. Stannis walked until he was satisfied they had reached the destination he had in mind before he sat down on a rock close by. Without a word, he began to take off his boots. He made quick work of his doublet next and she stood still, unsure of what he expected her to do. She felt uncomfortable. It was as if someone was watching them. Her husband's gaze met her uneasy one._

_He swiftly stood and moved behind her. His nimble fingers undid the laces of her gown and she slipped her silk slippers off her feet with the understanding of what was expected of her. Before long, Sansa found herself treading in the icy water of the lake and attempting to keep her teeth from chattering. The cold seemed to barely affect Stannis as he treaded water with her. They were close enough that she could feel his hands under the water holding onto her waist to prevent her from drowning if her legs gave out from the cold. It was comforting to know that he was holding her somewhere besides their makeshift bed. The man that slept with her at night was vastly different from the man she knew him to be during the day. It seemed impossible to reconcile the two men together, but Stannis could be both disarmingly silent and cold one moment and hot with passion the next. He was a man of many contradictions and she’d grown to understand that about him in the short time that they’d been married._

_"W-w-why do I f-f-feel like we're being watched?" She stammered as her teeth chattered slightly._

_"Because we are," he answered bluntly, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the lake. "Cersei Lannister has been having us watched long before I arrived in Winterfell. You're only beginning to feel the threat of it after last night."_

_Sansa resisted the urge to look around her. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Stannis' shoulders and hugged him tightly to her. He seemed taken aback by her action, but she couldn't help the chill that was beginning to set deep into her bones. His body would offer some of the warmth that she craved._

_"A-and s-s-swimming in the l-l-lake?" She demanded as her teeth began to violently chatter. His hands crept higher and it surprised her when he wrapped his arms around her. Stannis was not for romantic gestures or intimate touching, but he must have sensed that she was both frightened and cold._

_"No one can hear us,” he explained. “You're going to King's Landing and there are things that you have to know, Sansa. It's a snake pit of betrayal. Being my wife, people will come to you seeking favors. You're the_ _goodsister_ _of a king and aunt of the crown prince, sister to the future queen. Despite what you think, you hold a position of great power and people like Lord Baelish will seek to exploit it."_

_"Lord Baelish?"_

_“He’s the master of coin and a snake. He puts the crown deeper in debt every day. He's in love with your mother. Before you were born, he challenged your father's brother to a duel over Caitlyn's hand. He was defeated and cast out. Since then, Baelish has been crawling up the ladder of chaos to achieve all his ambitions."_

_Sansa frowned as Stannis began to explain everything that he possibly could to her. She head swam with the knowledge that Robert's children were bastards and by the time that Stannis finished explaining the complex web of lies that awaited her in King's Landing, she was terrified of being sent from his side. She clung to him tightly in a way that she was certain would have annoyed him at any other time. Her legs screamed with pain and her head had begun to hurt from every piece of information that she was trying to process._

_"Who can I trust?" She finally asked after a moment's hesitation._

_"Lord Varys," Stannis told her. "He's the only man that can help you. No one is honorable in King's Landing, Sansa. Varys is one of the very few men that would help you with anything."_

_"I thought he once supported a Targaryen rule."_

_"That was before Robert ordered the death of the last Targaryens. There is no one left of their house and Varys is not foolish enough to believe that anyone else can rule from their extinct line. A sickness of madness inflicted brother and sister and any hope of them returning to the throne died with them in Essos."_

_"So, he'll support a Baratheon rule?"_

_"He'll support what he believes is best for the realm," Stannis said quickly. "That doesn't mean that he supports my brother."_

_Sansa nodded and looked into the stormy grey eyes of her husband. He seemed confident that she'd be alright in King's Landing, but Sansa didn't share his confidence. If anything, she felt terrified of the coming months. As if sensing that she couldn’t tread water or withstand the cold any longer, Stannis supported her as they swam back to shore. Ser Davos was waiting for them on the shore with a two maids. Stepping out of the water, Sansa hugged her arms to her chest as her teeth violently chattered. She quickly found herself wrapped up in a thick wool blanket and heavy cloak. Escorted back to the tent, she nearly sighed with happiness at seeing a steaming bath in a copper tub. Sansa didn’t know where it had come from and nor did she care. Stepping into produced the same feelings that Stannis did when he touched her with his fingers. Blushing at the thought, Sansa quickly bathed and was dressed by the time that Robert Baratheon announced that he would be ready to depart in two days time. The king seemed drunk during the announcement and Sansa wondered sadly if their delay had more to do with Robert’s love of the local whore house than anything else._

_The day was quiet. She worked on her embroidery while Stannis replied to letters that Davos set out in front of him and with each note, his face would betray his dislike for the situation that was developing. It was late in the evening when she finally put aside her embroidery and walked to her husband._

_“You’ll have frown lines if you continue to glare at every letter like that,” she told him gently._

_“And then I shall look far older than I actually am,” Stannis replied swiftly. “You’re not the first woman to tell me that.”_

_“I am the woman you should listen to.”_

_Her quick words caused him to glance up at her. His expression was unreadable, but she could see desire in his eyes. He stood up and closed the well of ink that was close by. In their short time of marriage, Stannis had never actually kissed her, Sansa realized. His lips always created such a feeling a need inside her, but his lips never touched hers. His hands touched her arms and she could feel the warmth of his touch through the sleeves. How he was always warm was a mystery to her, but she liked it as much as she liked his touch. Wearing a dress style that was popular in the south, Sansa watched as Stannis reached for the small piece of ribbon that kept the front of her gown closed. She’d foregone almost all the usual layers of dressing in favor of a more simplistic gown._

_His hand touched her bare skin, just beneath her bare breast. She gasped at the feeling as his eyes darted to her._

_“You minx,” he murmured before pulling open the rest of her gown and pushing it to the ground. He kissed her neck and cupped her breasts as he pulled her with him towards the bed…_

Sansa let out a slow breath before standing. Jon stopped eating, but she ignored both Varys and Jon. Walking to the sitting room, she rested a hand on the back of a worn chair before the stone fireplace and lingered. That day was so firmly fixed in her memory. In the hours after he’d brought her some pleasure, Stannis had explained to her how he would communicate with her through his coded books. Varys would be able to smuggle them in and out of the capital, but she could only send one if the situation was dire. She had tried to remember everything that he’d told her, but pieces had grown fuzzy and she feared for her life more and more with each passing day. There were few things that kept her sane and she feared that Joffery and Cersei would strip those away from her the first chance they had.

“I have a person I’d like for you to meet.”

Varys’ voice brought her back to the present and Sansa turned to look at him with confusion. Her list of visitors was short and grew shorter every passing day. The guards that had been sent with her by Stannis had been dismissed or murdered. Her maid had been replaced by one of Cersei’s choosing and her days were long. Having to spend time with Joffery was not something she would enjoy in the coming hours, but it was better to be at a tourney with the King than in his throne room where she would be on a grand display.

“Who is this person?”

“A new guard of my choosing,” Varys replied. “You’re going to be free soon to roam the castle again. Joffery cannot keep his aunt locked up forever and at small council this afternoon, I am going to suggest that your restrictions be released. I believe that it will happen and I feel that it is essential that you have a guard sworn to protect you. While I admire Ser Jon’s devotion and capabilities, he is not allowed to carry a sword.”

Sansa nodded as Jon scowled again. Being reminded that he had only his fists to defend her always left her brother in a foul mood and she wished to move away from the topic as soon as possible. Varys snapped a finger and the young maid that had been hiding in the shadows opened a door. A northern looking man entered the rooms. Jon stood and moved to Sansa’s side as the man walked swiftly towards them, he gave a slight bow in her direction. 

“My Lady,” he acknowledged. “Ser Jorah Mormont, at your service.”

* * *

_March 25, 300 AC_

_Dragonstone_

Setting foot on Dragonstone, Ned shivered. The place was gloomy, but it was a fortified castle that would easily with handle a siege. He doubted that it would ever come to it. The war would be fought in the Westernlands, but he understood why Stannis would retreat. It gave the appearance that he was mourning Robert and it provided enough secrecy to keep the crown unaware of what was happening under their nose. Oberyn had informed him that his son had already gathered Northern forces and was pushing south to the Riverlands. Caitlyn was with Robb and news of Jamie Lannister’s capture had been celebrated by many. It seemed that their was hope that perhaps Jamie could be traded for Sansa and Jon.

Docking and being greeted by the familiar face of Ser Davos Seaworth, Ned found himself being escorted up to the castle while Oberyn’s companion, Ellaria Sand, took Arya away for a bath and a proper meal. Taking him up the stairs, Ned could hear seagulls out on the water. Davos pushed a door open and Ned found himself in the famed Chamber of the Painted Table. Stepping into the room, he couldn’t look away from the great table that was buffed to shine. Looking around the hall, Ned paused seeing a figure near grand fireplace. Stannis sat in a tall wingback chair. His gaze was intent on the flames. A hand cradled his forehead while the other hand rested on Lady’s large head. The beast had grown, but she whined every so often as to force Stannis to move his hand. Walking slowly towards his new king, Ned wasn’t sure what to say. He’d failed many people by not being able to control Caitlyn and playing the game of thrones required.

“I’m not surprised that she isn’t with you,” Stannis said quietly as he held out a piece of parchment that he’d pulled out from the doublelet he wore. Lady whined loudly, but Stannis ignored her and stood. Taking the outstretched parchment, Ned glanced over the note that had been sent from Robb. It detailed his exact letters to the crown in begging for mercy. Lines were written that Ned doubted Robb ever intended for him to see. Anger was directed towards both him and Caitlyn. Anger about the situation and how it was being handled by all Starks involved. Ned looked up from the letter as Stannis walked towards the great table that showed a map of Westeros. Small pieces marked certain areas.

“Lady Stark has caused a diplomatic incident,” Stannis said curtly. “I’ve already instructed your son to confine her to her tents until our armies meet in the Riverlands. Lady Stark will then be placed in your custody and I expect no more issues.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Ned replied quietly. “On behalf of Lady Stark, I would beg that you show her mercy. She is sick with grief as only a mother can be."

“And the rightful queen is being held as a prisoner in King’s Landing while she carries my one true heir to the Iron Throne,” Stannis snapped as he turned on his heels and faced Ned. “The chances of my having been able to convince Robert that Sansa needed to retreat to Storm’s End were high before Lady Stark believed herself above the law and kidnapped Lord Tyrion Lannister. My lady wife would be safely here with us instead of in that snake pit if it wasn’t for Lady Stark’s unthinking actions. Every day that your daughter remains in the capital is another day closer to the birth of her child. Joffery is unstable and who knows what he will do once the child is born. If by some miracle the Lannisters do not execute your daughter before the birth, they will most assuredly kill my child to prevent any rivals to contend the Iron Throne.” 

Ned swallowed hard. Stannis had voiced every fear that he’d kept hidden deep down and did not want to acknowledge.

“Lady Stark was not aware of what was happening when she acted.”

“Blinded by her grief is not an excuse that I will accept,” Stannis snapped again as he rested his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Action without thought will not win this damn war.” 

Ned nodded, “Of course, Your Grace. I only thank you now for your granting my daughter and I safe passage out of King’s Landing.”

“I did not do that,” Stannis answered briskly as he glared at the very location they spoke of. “Upon hearing of your arrest, the Martell House reached out in support. Prince Doran sent Prince Oberyn and upon his arrival, Varys’ last letter reached us. Prince Oberyn and Ser Davos were charged with your rescue.”

Stannis picked up the very letter that he spoke of and handed it to Ned. Looking at the note, he recognized the feminine handwriting on the page as belonging to Sansa. His eyes read each word as the truth slowly sank in. 

 

_King’s Landing_

_My lord husband,_

_The situation grows worse with each passing day. I have very little time to write this letter, but I must beg you for my peace of mind to do one act for me. If at all possible, I beg you to please find a way to save my family. The Lannisters have imprisoned my father as you are aware and although Lord Varys has put many of his resources into finding Arya, she is missing._

_I am aware that I ask a great deal of you and perhaps I am foolish, but I am desperate. You will have no better supporter than my father. He believes that you are the one true king and I know that above all he will support you. Honor and tradition are greatly important to him and I know that he will play a great key in your winning this war._

_The walls feel like they are closing in around us. I fear that this maybe my last letter to you. Please consider this my will should my death come in the following days and weeks. I know that you do not believe in the gods, but I will have enough faith for us both and believe that you are the only person who can bring order back to the chaos that has descended upon the seven kingdoms. I pray that you will receive this letter in good health and know that I will always be you most loyal subject._

_Signed,_

_Lady Sansa of House Baratheon_

Ned reached blindly for the closest chair and sat down.

“Loyal to the end. It is an admirable quality that is lacking in this world. She is correct in her letter. You will be my most valued advisor and I am grateful that you are here, Eddard.”

“As am I, Your Grace,” Ned said softly as he put the note aside. "I will do all I can to serve you faithfully."

“Good, Lord Stark. Varys has been my ears inside the Red Keep and his birds tell him that the winds of war are changing,” Stannis continued. “Tywin Lannister is preparing his men for a long, bloody fight. He’s already brought a siege down on Riverrun and I’ve dispatched instructions that your son is to meet us at the Neck. We will push south while the Martells hold Dorne and Storm’s End. Tyrion Lannister is being sent by his father to be the acting Hand of the King and prepare King’s Landing for battle.”

Ned moved his gaze from the letter to the table, “Forcing Lannister to stretch his armies thin.”

“Exactly, I want Tywin Lannister at my mercy and I will have justice for the Martells as I take what is rightfully mine.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I'm such a bad author! I'm so sorry for the wait! Hopefully this made up for the wait! We are jumping ahead, but Sansa will be filling in some of the holes in the coming chapters. Some of you will recognize that were at the beginning of season 2 in the show, but there will be other alternatives and such...
> 
> See you soon!:)


	6. Losing Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa faces hard truths, Stannis dreams, and the Red Lady appears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment! There have been many questions about dragons and hopefully this chapter begins to shed some light! 
> 
> I've also gone back and fixed some typos and such in the first few chapters. If you see any, please let me know and I will fix ASAP! I also added dates to make the story flow better. We're in April 300 AC this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks and enjoy!

**Part V: Losing Sleep**

* * *

  _“…Running from the dark, but I just can’t hide_

_Dreading sundown, yeah I’m dreading the night_

_Need you back here ‘cause it feels so wrong…”_

* * *

_April 6, 300 AC_

_King’s Landing_

_The Red Keep_

Tyrion Lannister stared at his sister with mild disgust. Cersei had always hated him and it was no surprise that King’s Landing had plunged into chaos with her in charge. His rooms were warm and inviting, but it was all a mirage. Beneath the façade was a city in turmoil and at the helm was a king possibly madder than any Targaryen before him.

“We had hostages to negotiate with, sister, in a war that we are losing,” he told her as he raised a glass of wine to his lips. “You lost Arya Stark, attempted to kill Eddard Stark before he was spirited away. Sansa Baratheon is our only hostage and you place her in the vicinity of Joffery. Tut, tut, Father would be furious with the state of affairs.”

“Joffery is the king,” Cersei said stiffly as she stood up and gazed out the open windows. “If he desires his aunt’s company—”

“Despite what you think,” Tryion interrupted growing impatient of the conversation. “Many share the common belief that Sansa Baratheon is the only true queen, not you, sister. The North throws their support behind Stannis Baratheon after you attempt to kill the honorable Ned Stark and many will follow. Four of the seven kingdoms will soon support him and soon the House Martell will declare for Stannis as well. That is if they have not already. Who do we have? The Tyrells of Highgarden? They’ll stab us in the back the first chance that they get. The Greyjoys? They care for no one but themselves. We have no one, dear sister.”

“That is not true,” Cersei snapped as she swept around to glare at him. “Margaery Tyrell will soon be wed to Joff and the Tyrells will be our allies. With the Tyrell support, we will hold onto our crown. With the Lannister and Tyrell forces, we will win this war and Stannis Baratheon will be a footnote in history.”

“And should Stannis Baratheon offer them a better alliance? Suppose he promises more than father ever can.” “And what can Stannis Baratheon offer them? Money? Horses?” “Their lives,” Tyrion drawled. “If we lose this war, our heads will be put on spikes. I’m sure that the Tyrells like their heads attached to their bodies as much as we do.”

Cersei scowled at him, “They won’t betray us. We are making Margaery a queen. Father will see to it that the Baratheon Forces are smashed and if needed, we will kill Sansa Baratheon if it will bring the war to an end.”

Tyrion’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d never considered his sister to wish the death of someone as innocent as Sansa Baratheon, but in light of recent events, Tyrion imagined that he should not underestimate Cersei. She was just as willing to commit atrocities as their father if it served her a higher purpose.

“Yes, because killing the woman many view to be the rightful queen will solve our problems. Tell me, since when has the kingsguards murdered babes in the cradle? Did you order it?”

Cersei paced the length of his chamber silently with her hands tightly clasped together. It took all of Tyrion two moments to recognize his sister’s agony. She had not ordered the murders of sixteen bastards and if it was not her who had ordered their brutal executions, there was only one person who had the ability to order the Kingsguard.

“Joffery ordered their deaths, didn’t he? You didn’t know until it was too late. You can’t control him, can you?”

Cersei didn’t answer, but her body language was enough to give him the confirmation that he needed. Pouring more wine into his goblet, Tyrion raised it to his lips and took several gulps. His nephew was a murderous fool and this was proof. No one would be able to control him, not even Cersei. It was clever of Joffery to eliminate all those who could be seen as contenders to the throne through Robert’s bloodline, but it was a dangerous game to play especially with Stannis Baratheon’s unborn heir so close by.

“I will advise that you keep Joffery far from Lady Sansa,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Why? If my son demands her company, she should attend him.”

“The child that she carries is Stannis Baratheon’s only legitimate heir,” Tyrion continued as if he were speaking to a simpleton. “Joffery has already murdered sixteen other without your knowledge. What is to stop him from murdering the only true person who could contend his right to the throne if father is successful in killing Stannis Baratheon?”

Cersei looked outraged as her face turned red, “Joff would not kill his cousin!”

“What’s to stop him? He’s already murdered his supposed half-brothers and sisters,” Tyrion mocked. “But if rumors are true, they aren’t even remotely related to him, are they? If Sansa Baratheon bores a child with black hair, it makes all the rumors true that true Baratheon’s only have black hair. It would be enough to convince many people that your seed of incest sits on the rightful Baratheon throne wouldn’t it, Cersei? That is what you are so afraid of.”

Without another word, Cersei left his rooms with a grand sweeping exit. She flung the doors open and the hit the stone wall with a loud ‘thwack’ that made Tyrion flinch. He’d hit a nerve like he’d meant to, but it was in the hopes that his sister would understand that they were fighting a war that they could not possibly win. Stannis was gaining more and more supporters each day. Keeping Sansa prisoner only made them look like the villains the people painted the House Lannister out to be. If Joffery caused her any harm…Tyrion shuddered to think what would happen when Stannis Baratheon did take King’s Landing. She was of the North and the North had a long memory. Considering that Sansa was the crown jewel that many admired, any harm to her would not be forgotten easily.

The Martells would be breathing down their necks soon enough, desperate to avenge Elia Martell and it would not be possible to fight war with their enemies on all sides. No matter how great Cersei believed their father to be, not even Tywin Lannister could win such a war. Stannis would have them outmatched in everything essential. Hearing the sweeping of robes on the floor, Tyrion looked up to see the round face of Lord Varys. The plump eunuch looked solemn as he walked inside and closed the door behind him.

“I suppose you know about the murders,” Varys said without a hint of emotion in his voice. “Tragic things do happen during times of war.”

Tyrion said nothing because he knew that he couldn’t trust Varys. Stannis and Varys had always been close if his spies were to be believed. The Master of Whispers had always silently supported Robert Baratheon’s younger brother and he suspected that Varys was in constant contact with Stannis. In fact, Tyrion wouldn’t have been surprised if the Spider had direct orders from Stannis to protect his queen at all costs from his deranged nephew.

“I am not Ned Stark,” Tyrion said quietly. “I know how this game works.”

“Then you know that for the betterment of the people, your nephew must be…controlled,” Varys replied carefully. “He claims to be king, but his actions towards Lady Baratheon must be closely watched. It would be tragic for all involved if an accident occurred, would it not? I cannot imagine the grief many would feel. Lady Baratheon has become a pillar of strength to many in the eyes of the common people of King’s Landing. Should something happen…I’m not sure the people could control themselves, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion clenched his fists tightly, “I don’t take well to threats, Spider.”

“Who’s threatening you?” Varys mocked with an innocent expression on his face. “I am merely stating facts.”

Before Tyrion could speak again, Varys left the room. He shook with a combination of anger and fear. Anger because Varys had threatened him and fear because the eunuch had been correct. Sansa was favorable in the people’s eyes. Just as favorable as her husband and if something happened to her, Tyrion feared that it would only promote open rebellion from more. It would give the people a uniting cause. If something happened to Sansa, she would be the rallying cry of a rebellion just as her aunt Lyanna Stark had been so many years ago.

“What strange power you Stark women possess over unsuspecting men,” Tyrion murmured to himself.

* * *

 

_April 7, 300 AC_

_Dragonstone_

Ned sat quietly with Davos, Prince Oberyn, and Stannis in the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Days had been spent planning their campaign and he was satisfied with the outcome. The last time he’d gone to battle in the Iron Islands, Robert had been a poor planner and it had shown in the chaos of the battle. Looking back, Ned supposed the only reason they had won was because of Stannis’ intervention with Ser Davos towards the end. It had seemed that his goodson was far superior to his brother in military strategy. Jon Arryn had obviously taught Stannis when Robert refused to learn.

Had Robert himself not jokingly said that all he’d cared about as a young man was crushing skulls and fucking girls?

No, it was true that planning with Oberyn, Davos, and Stannis had brought peace of mind. Attacks and counter-attacks had been planned with careful precision. Alliances had been proposed, accepted, and suggested. Prince Trystane had been pledged to Arya and Ned was satisfied that in time, his youngest daughter would thrive in Dorne. She could be as wild and free as Nymeria without fear of rejection. Dorne celebrated a free spirit and Arya’s would undoubtedly be beloved by many. As they sat finalizing their plans, Ned was keenly aware that at dawn the next day they’d be sailing for the Neck. Soon, he’d be reunited with Cat and Robb, but Arya would be sent to Dorne where she’d be safe with her betrothed and Prince Doran. It was the best place for her to be, in his opinion. He didn’t know what condition Cat would be in, but he couldn’t allow Arya near her. Ellaria Sand was a caring, wise woman and already showed her devotion to Trystane Martell’s betrothed through her careful caring. Ned sensed no ulterior motive in the woman’s actions and he was grateful. Arya had been through an ordeal that she was not quite old enough to process and slowly, Ellaria was helping her to come to terms with the trauma.

“The Lannisters are already raiding the Riverlands,” Davos said quickly as he pointed at the table.

“We will need to move quickly to gain Tully’s support.”

“Free Riverrun from its siege,” Prince Oberyn replied. “Freeing them will make it impossible for the Lannister to invade the Vale.”

“Lysa won’t declare her support,” Ned interjected tiredly. “She’s too paranoid and has enflamed that paranoia in others. She has been openly executing anyone who dares to try and usurp her power or interfere in the rearing of her son.”

No one dared to mention Catelyn by name, but it was understood by all. Prince Oberyn said nothing as he ran he ran his fingers over his chin, deep in thought. Davos looked uncomfortable and Stannis…his goodson looked less than pleased at even having to think about his goodmother and her sister.

“We’ll send an envoy to visit her,” Stannis said with finality after several tense moments. “This is not a war that she can stay out of and Jon Arryn wouldn’t let her do it if he were alive. If needed, we will appoint a Lord Protector of the Vale to relieve her of her duties. Someone who’s interest align with ours. I am sure that many in the Vale would agree that she is not suited to be in control any longer.”

They all murmured their agreement before Prince Oberyn cleared his throat. “And after you’ve freed the Riverlands?”

“We will push to divide the Crownlands from the Reach and the Westernlands,” Stannis answered as he pushed piece into place on the great painted table. Your army will push north and we will push south, meeting to cut off the Crownlands from supplies. Without Lannister men or food from the Reach, the people will quickly force Cersei and her son to surrender. We will not attack King’s Landing, but we will lay siege to it to force their surrender in the bay. I’d like to keep the city intact with as little bloodshed as possible, but I don’t think that Cersei will leave any power of position without a fight.”

“It is a good plan,” Ned agreed. “But in the Neck, Walder Frey won’t let us cross the river without paying a toll. He’s known to demand payment regardless of one’s status. He had the gall to demand Robert pay a toll.”

“Your son has been instructed to wait until our arrival,” Stannis assured him. “I will deal with the Late Lord Walder Frey myself. He’ll want a marriage and I plan to make a strategic one.”

“The Martell Army will await you in the South,” Oberyn said quickly changing the subject as he sensed Stannis’ growing rage. “There is one last question to deal with and it is a delicate one.”

“Out with it,” Davos barked. “Succession,” Oberyn murmured. “Should something happen to your child, Your Grace, you will be heirless. Should you die in battle, it will plunge the kingdoms into chaos. There are few Baratheons left in your line.”

Ned watched his goodson stand and clasp his hands behind his back. Oberyn was correct, as painful as it was to admit. There was a very real possibility that something could happen to Sansa and the child. They could both die in child-bed or worse. Rumors of murder were flowing freely from the capital and Ned shuddered at the thought that Sansa or her child could be murdered. He regretted ever leaving her side and prayed to the old gods and the new that he could have convinced her to secure herself and her child safe passage instead of him. He understood that the North needed him more than they needed her, but he still regretted her decision. The truth was that there were no direct, living descendants from the Baratheon line after Stannis. Renly was dead and the prior Lord Baratheon had been an only child. Stannis was the last of his line and Ned was genuinely concerned as to who would be king should something happen. If his goodson died and Sansa failed to give birth to a son, or she and her child were murdered, the Kingdoms would plunge into chaos.

“That is a very good question, indeed,” Stannis said quietly as he looked out to the sea.

* * *

_April 16, 300 AC_

_King’s Landing_

Sansa walked in the gardens at a slow pace. It was impossible to hide the proof of her condition with her gowns and she often forced herself to ignore the stares and whispers of gossiping members of the court subjected her to. She was not deaf to the names they called her behind her back. Many believed her to be a whore and that the child wasn’t Stannis Baratheon’s. Some had even called her a liar and traitor for claiming to be queen. It had taken all herself control not to scream at the top of her lungs that she made no such claims, but giving in and doing so would only satisfy those who taunted her. Instead, she satisfied herself with the knowledge that someday she would be their queen and those who tormented her would receive no favor. The gardens were unusually lifeless for the afternoon. Usually there were many people walking about with partners, lovers, husbands, wives…

Holding her hand to touch the lamb’s ear that grew from a flower box, Sansa was grateful for Jorah Mormont’s quiet strength. He was as devoted as Jon and believed in her husband’s claim. He made her feel as safe as possible in a city of traitors and backstabbers.

“What do you supposed happened?”she asked quietly as she twisted the soft peddle between her thumb and middle finger.

“My Lady?” Jorah replied and she could hear the frown in his voice.

Turning and looking at the man who had sworn to protect her, Sansa sighed and kept walking.

“The gardens are so quiet today,” she explained. “Something must have happened to make it so quiet.”

“I cannot say, milady.”

“Cannot or will not?” Sansa demanded as she looked at her protector with a curious expression.

Ever since she’d awoken, those around her from the maids to Jorah, Varys, and Jon had been acting peculiar. Before Jorah could reply, Jon came running towards them. Out of breath, he stopped before her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Varys wants to see you in your chambers,” Jon whispered. “It cannot wait.”

Nodding, Sansa took his arm and together they walked back to her husband’s rooms. She had yet to actually think of them as hers. In her mind, Stannis still dwelled there. At night when she couldn’t sleep, Sansa would lay there and imagine that he was simply with Robert, debating some poltical matter. She’d close her eyes and escape the cruelty of her situation by telling herself that he’d be back in bed soon. In the morning, he’d tell her over breakfast what his brother had done so late at night. Eventually, Sansa would drift off to sleep and always awoke with disappointment. Entering her chambers, Jorah closed the doors behind them as Varys looked up from where he’d been sitting. Letting go of Jon, she went to Varys and sat down opposite him.

“You have something to tell me that’s horrible, don’t you?” she whispered. “I can see the look on your face.”

Varys nodded and Sansa looked away from him. Her mind raced with what he could possibly tell her. All the scenarios that she created in her mind all ended with someone that she loved dying. She supposed that it was far worse to be told that she would be Joffery captive for life, but the thought of losing another person she loved caused her more pain than she could ever imagine. As if Varys could read her thoughts, he reached a hand across the table and covered hers.

“No one has died,” he said, trying to be comforting. Jon closed his eyes and let out a long breath and even Jorah looked somewhat relieved. The relief did not last like she wanted it to.

“A troubling truth reached me a few days ago,” Varys continued with a somber look on his face. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, Lady Sansa.”

“Tell me what?”

“Joffery Baratheon had his father’s bastards murdered. All sixteen bastards, youngest to oldest, were murdered.”

Sansa felt the air leave her lungs and her fingers grew cold, “Robert’s children? How old was the youngest?”

“Unborn,” Varys murmured. “The Kingsguard murdered the pregnant girl and ripped the babe from her belly.”

Jon sat down in a chair as Sansa stood up. Worry filled her and she knew that every nightmare that ever existed was nothing compared to what she was feeling now.

“What does this have to do with my sister?” Jon demanded.

“The child she carries is the only other person in King’s Landing who has a legitimate claim to the throne,” Jorah said as he let his hand rest on his sword. “Joffery is eliminating all those who can challenge his rule.”

“We need to get her out of the city,” Jon hissed. “Varys, she cannot be here when—”

“I have to stay,” Sansa said quietly. “I have to stay because if I leave, Joffery will hunt me down. He’d send every Kingsguard after me until he had what he wanted. Besides, he has us watched. Cersei Lannister has us watched. I made father and Arya disappear into the night. I can’t repeat such a trick twice. The Lannisters know that I am the only thing that they have to trade should the tides of war turn away from their favor. I cannot simply walk out of this city. You know that.”

“And your child?” Jon demanded with worry evident in his eyes. “How will you protect your child?”

“Joffery won’t harm her child,” Varys said quickly. “With Tyrion Lannister returned to be the Hand of the King, Joffery will not harm the babe once he or she is born. It would be suicide to do such a thing. Joffery knows this as well as every Lannister alive.”

“Then why are you telling my sister about this?” Jon demanded. “She has enough to worry about without you causing her to fear more.”

“He told me because the moment this child is born all the rage, humiliation, and hatred that Joffery feels for Stannis will be turned onto me,” Sansa said softly, understanding Varys true motive. “If Tyrion protects my child from being the object of Joffery’s feelings…another must become the object and who better than the wife of the man who is humiliating him?”

Sansa understood that Varys wasn’t there to speak about the child or the bastards that Joffery had let his thugs murder. He was there to warn her of what was to come. Tyrion Lannister could protect the child, but he couldn’t protect her. Her child would be safe from harm, but she wouldn’t be. Joffery would inflict his horrors on her instead of her child. It was a decision that she accept in a heartbeat.

“Sansa,” Jon said brokenly. “You have to leave.”

“Not even my little birds could ensure her safe passage,” Varys replied. “Cersei Lannister’s spies are growing with each passing day. The Tyrells will join the Lannisters and this city will be overrun by roses, lions, and everyone who is vying for favor with them. The only people in this room Ser Jon are the only people that can be trusted.”

“You must do something, Varys,” Jon begged. “Please, you know what Joffery is capable of. He can’t do those things to my sister.”

Feeling the flutter inside her, Sansa moved her hand down over the child she cared beneath her heart. It had been a fortnight since she’d felt the babe kick. The movement overjoyed her and yet, it terrified her. She was at the mercy of a mad man who wanted her child and husband dead. Feeling unwell, Sansa reached out for a chair to support herself. She could see it, but her hand wasn’t close enough. Hands grasped her elbows and helped her to sit as someone shouted for the maester. Touching her hand to her head, Sansa looked up into the worried gaze of Ser Jorah.

“I should very much like to lie down,” Sansa confessed feeling dizzy.

* * *

_April 25, 300 AC_

_The King’s Cabin, the Fury_

_The Narrow Sea, near the coast of Gulltown_

Stannis lay in his hammock and felt the ship rock beneath him. He normally took comfort in such things, but it had become difficult to enjoy such pleasures. When Oberyn Martell had written to him of Varys plot, he’d known that Sansa had been behind it. She understood better than anyone the role her father played. It was his honor that guided so many. Between them, Eddard and himself had a mutual respect. Although, that respect was being tested by Lady Stark and Stannis ground his teeth in frustration. He’d been so close to securing Robert’s permission in allowing Sansa to leave King’s Landing and in an act of madness, Catelyn Stark had ruined all those plans. Pinching the bridge of his nose in the darkness, Stannis clenched his eyes shut. He hadn’t slept well since the night he’d learned of Catelyn Stark’s folly. He’d felt the walls closing in around them all and knew that time was limited. Even with his resources in the capital, there was no way to save her and like a good queen, she’d sacrificed herself to save others.

Varys had followed her orders and helped Eddard escape and with Eddard’s support, Stannis had gained more support than even he could ever imagine. Through Varys planning, the Martells had been brought into the fold and Sansa’s gift to him had been the support of two great houses. Her position was so alike to Elia Martell that it was haunting, even Oberyn had felt the connection. Turning onto his side, Stannis swore loudly into the night. He wasn’t a man to use such words, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was his fault that Elia Martell died and guilt had followed him all his life. Oberyn and Doran had both told him that he wasn’t at fault, but Stannis had disagreed. If only he’d tried harder to convince Robert not to harm the Princess and her children. His words had fallen on deaf ears and Stannis wondered if perhaps this was fate. The gods that he didn’t believe in were avenging his failure to save Elia and her children. Sansa and his unborn child were the payment for his sins.

Turning over in the hammock again, he fought with his blanket for a second until he found a comfortable position. Alone in his hammock, he couldn’t push her away. He could still taste the softness of her skin and feel the soft weight of her breasts in his hands. Behind his eyelids, Stannis could see her naked body laid out on pelts of fur and he wondered if it would be the last memory he ever had of making love to her. He’d lost track of how many times he’d relived that moment between them. The sound of her soft gasps in his ear as he touched her body and warmed her flesh haunted him even in his sleep. Her blood red hair, like a halo around her, begging to be touched…had he ever told her how beautiful her hair was? He couldn’t recall if he’d ever told her just how beautiful she was. Even beneath the skirts of her dress, her womanly figure had taunted him.

By day, Sansa was the model of everything he ever expected a wife to be and more. She was gentle and kind like he imagined every woman to be, but she was clever and intelligent. She hid it well, but he could see her love for other things. She was not a simple minded fool like Cersei Lannister. Sansa was more than just beauty. With the thought of her beauty on his mind, Stannis felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep…

_…The air smelt like orange blossoms and the breeze was warm on his skin. The stone beneath his feet were made of white marble and in the distance, he recognized the palace of Summerhall, but it wasn’t destroyed as it always had been. No, this Summerhall was impressive in size and looks. Stannis could only conclude that it had been rebuilt from the way the stones looked._

_Hearing the pitter patter of footsteps behind him, Stannis turned and was shocked to see three children run past him. Two bare foot little girls, in long blue dresses that were made of thin cotton and ended just before their ankles, were running away from an older looking boy that wore a smile on his face as he chased after them._

_“_ _You won’t catch me, Eddard!” the youngest girl called over her shoulder before going down the steps._ _Stannis walked forward quickly to make sure that she wouldn’t slip, but with the grace that he could never possess, both girls ran down the steps. The green grass of the open area was under their feet as the boy followed them._

 _“_ _I’ll get you, Cassana!” The little girl with black ringlets laughed happily as the older girl with identical black ringlets dodged the boy’s grasp._

 _“_ _Run, Elia!” the little girl, Cassana, shouted joyfully. “Papa will save you!”_

_The older girl, Elia, went running towards a figure walking towards them and Stannis recognized himself. Older with lines around his eyes with grey hair around his temples and streaked through what little hair he had left, he was surprised to see this older version of himself smile and lift the girl Elia up into the air. He spun her around once before placing her back on the stone path. Cassana ran to the older him and with the ease of a man who was much younger, Stannis watched himself pick the girl up and settle her in his arms. The boy smiled and ran to them._

_“Did you all attend to your lessons?” he asked them in a gruff voice._

_“Yes!” they said collectively, but the older him only nodded and looked off into the distance. Turning behind him to see what had intrigued the older version of himself, Stannis froze. Walking towards him in flowing gown of light pink was Sansa. She had aged, but not like he had. Time had made her only more beautiful and the style of the gown she wore was light and airy. Showing her shoulders, the fabric trailed behind her, but what truly caught his interest was the little child she had with her. The babe was unsteady on his feet, but Sansa held onto his hand and walked slowly with him. It was only when his interest was caught by a flower did she stop and crouch down with the boy leaning against her body._

_“_ _What do you see, my little prince?” she asked with a smile on her face. His feet moved him closer to her as the boy grinned back at her. He reached out for the butterfly that was on the flower, but she caught his hand and kissed it._

_“You must not touch it, Davos,” she told him softly. “It’s meant to be admired, not touched. Shall we go see Papa and perhaps have some late lunch?”_

_Picking the boy up, Sansa walked past him and down the steps. The older version of himself beamed and put down Cassana. She crossed the sea of green grass and to the stone path where the older version of himself touched the babe’s head as the three children went running in the direction of Summerhall with joyful cries. Guards lined the pathway and watched carefully as his children ran past them. With his hand touched the center of Sansa’s back where her skin was exposed and the back of the dress began, he whispered something in her ear. She smiled at him before handing over the babe and chasing after the children with her laughter ringing clear like a bell._

_The sight of her chasing after them, strands of her hair held back by a golden ribbon, brought a smile to his face…_

A pounding on his door caused Stannis to sit up and swear loudly as he wiped away the sweat that had formed on his brow. Quickly getting up and putting on his tunic, Stannis swung the door opened and glared at the man who had interrupted such a wonderful dream. Ned stood with Davos, both looking worried.

“There’s a stowaway, Your Grace,” Davos said quickly.

“And it couldn’t have waited until morning?” Stannis barked as he looked between the two men.

Not bothering for an answer, Stannis looked to wear the guards were standing with a woman dressed in red. She looked serene as she stood between his men.

“You dreamt of her tonight, didn’t you, Your Grace?” she said in voice that flowed over him like honey. She was not as beautiful as Sansa, but he couldn’t deny that she was pretty. It was her words that trouble him and intrigued him.

“You dreamt of a future that could happen,” she continued. “You saw them…your son and heir, Eddard. Your daughters, Elia and Cassana, sweet little girls who look like their mother. And your little boy, Davos, a little boy who will go on to always be a good and loyal brother to his king. All together at a newly built Summerhall…that’s what you saw tonight, didn’t you?”

“And who are you?”

“There is a reason you had such a dream, if such a vision can be called that,” she pressed on. “If your child were born tonight, the babe would live. Only a few moments, but the child would live and for a brief moment in time three dragons would exist. Only three pure dragons at heart.”

“Get her in a cell,” Stannis snapped at the guards. “I won’t be hearing this nonsense this late at night.”

“Your blood, Lady Sansa’s blood, and the blood of your child…three dragons connected directly through blood as the prophecy predicted. Daenerys Targaryen could not awaken the dragons, but she can…your wife can and the cost will be great, but three dragons will be reborn into this world and you will be their king and she their mother. I’ve seen it in my flames, Your Grace.”

Her words gave him pause and Stannis looked at both Ned and Davos. The woman must have taken his silence as his acceptance of her words.

“There is true Targaryen blood in your veins,” she continued. “I have seen the dynasty that you will father and Lady Sansa will mother. A line so great that it will last for centuries to come and peace and prosperity will linger until your bones turn to dust in your great crypt.”

“Who are you?” Stannis demanded again with a scowl on his face.

“I am Melisandre, servant of the Lord of the Light and servant to the King Stannis Baratheon, first of his name. I am servant to his wife, the Queen Mother Sansa, first of her name.”

“Well, Lady Melisandre, your predictions are impossible,” Stannis snapped as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Lord Stark here will tell you the truth that no Stark has ever married into the Targaryen line. It’s impossible for Sansa Stark to have a drop of Targaryen blood in her as you so believe.”

“Aye,” Ned agreed. “It’s true. My daughter has not a drop of Targaryen in her veins.”

“No, not directly from birth, but she was a young girl,” Melisandre said softly. “Lord Eddard Stark, you know how she was exposed to Targaryen blood, don’t you? It was the first and only time you ever hit your eldest boys with a belt, was it not?”

“I don’t remember her ever being near Targaryen blood. It would be impossible,” Ned snapped. “She was only ever stabbed with a needle as a little girl and there was no Targaryen around.”

Melisandre walked slowly towards him with a slight smile on her face, “In the attics, can’t you remember? That night when Jon and her twin brother, Robb, dared her to prove that Lyanna Stark didn’t haunt the attics as so many claimed and she entered the rooms willingly. When the door closed behind her and the latch fell, Lady Sansa was locked inside without a single candle. You remember how she cut herself on a blade that she found in a trunk when looking for a blanket to keep her warm through the cold night? The cloth she used to cover the cut was stained in the blood from your dead sister. Blood from the birthing bed of her bastard with the Targaryen Prince she fell in love with. The child lived and you kept the sheets. You kept everything from that tower and it was the only chance Lady Sansa would have ever had to be exposed to such blood. You found her in the morning and mistook the sheet of blood for hers and the maester was summoned. Do you remember now?”

“It was dried blood,” Ned said through clenched teeth as painful memories came to the surface. “That trunk was burned after it happened and the lock on the door fixed.”

“But it was the blood of the dragon that she touched and soaked her own blood in. The attic was only the first time she touched Targaryen blood. Did she not also tend to wounds on your bastard nephew? His blood touched hers and mixed a second time. On the night she coupled with King Stannis, he took her maidenhead and spilled his seed. Him piercing her and causing her to bleed as he made her a woman…it was enough for their bodies recognized the blood of dragons between them. Only a male dragon can awaken a female dragon. One drop of Targaryen blood between the two of them was enough to awaken the magic that died with the last Targaryens. When your child is born, enough blood will be split between mother and child to fulfill the requirements needed bring the dragons back. Why do you think the Targaryen House rarely married outside? Their blood is special and although a few drops remain in the veins of few, it is still enough. All that is needed is a blood spilt between man and woman and you did that, Your Grace.”

“And how do you know this?” Davos demanded with a skeptical look on his face that rivaled Stannis’ own look of utter annoyance.

“I have seen it in the fires,” Melisandre answered. “The night is dark and full of terrors, but the Lord of Light has shown that the night can be conquered by those he deems worthy. You cannot think that it is mere chance that Lady Sansa would exposed to Targaryen blood and marry into one of the few houses that has true Targaryen blood in its veins? It’s not chance, it’s fate and it is fate that has brought me here this night. It was fate that Daenarys Targaryen and her brother died and it is fate that Stannis Baratheon will be the greatest king that ever lived.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Stannis growled before he turned on his heel and slammed the doors to his cabin behind him.

* * *

Robb sat still in inside his tent and ran a hand through his curls.

His mother had become impossible it seemed. She was convinced that Bran had been murdered by the Lannisters and nothing he said made any difference to her. Reason no longer existed in her mind and her grief was overtaking her mind. The woman who was his mother was fading away and Robb wondered if he could ever get her back. Holding Sansa’s last letter to him, he looked over the neat handwriting that resembled his own. Her letter had been full of fascinating details from King’s Landing, but he knew her well enough to know that beneath the false cheer she was suffering. Their mother’s actions had created problems between the great houses and it seemed impossible to undo the damage. Having written to his goodbrother, Robb had been advised by several of his Lords to write begging pardon and citing his mother’s actions as the actions of a mad woman. The Lannisters had been less responsive than he’d hoped and within weeks, news of Robert Baratheon’s death had sent his world spinning. Stannis’ reply to his letter had been timely and his advice sound.

Heeding his goodbrother, Robb had assembled the men in the north to be ready for marching orders from Lord Baratheon. A letter had come swiftly afterwards with the news that his father had been freed from King’s Landing. Catelyn had been overjoyed, but she hadn’t asked about the wellbeing of Jon or Sansa. She hadn’t even listened to him when he’d explained that his brother and sister were being held captive by a mad king. It had hurt to know his mother was so absorbed in her own grief that she couldn’t see past herself. She had caused such political instability and yet, Catelyn was blind to see it. She was blind to the fact that because of her, Sansa and Jon were prisoners. She was blind to the fact that she had been played by Littlefinger.

Sansa’s letter had detailed the transactions that father had told her about and never had Robb believed his mother so gullible. She had risked everything to try and settle her grief, but it had left them in a war that Robb had no wish to fight. He doubted that his mother could even comprehend what her actions had done. Closing the letter and slipping back into the small wooden box where it was kept, Robb pinched the bridge of his nose before standing. Going to Catelyn’s tent, Robb entered and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I’ve received a letter,” he said quickly. “King Stannis and father will arrive soon and join us in the Neck. We’ll continue south from that point and free the Riverlands.”

“Did the letter have any news of Arya?” she asked with hope in her eyes as she set aside her sewing. “Eddard?”

Robb bit the inside of his lip to prevent himself from snapping at her.

“No,” he told her briskly. “There was no information about Arya. Father wrote that he is in good health and recovering from his ordeal. Sansa—”

“I don’t want to hear about her,” Caitlyn said quickly as she stood and pressed a hand to her chest. “I know that she is your twin and a part of you, but I haven’t forgiven her for the death of Bran. She knew better than to leave him alone with that Jon Snow.”

“Ser Jon Snow,” Robb corrected with barely concealed anger. “The Lannisters have knighted him so that he may serve my sister, your daughter.”

“They knighted him because he aided them in killing my son!”

“Jon did not cause Bran to die, mother! You know that it is not true!”

“You don’t know that,” Caitlyn snapped back. “You don’t know! He could have taken a pillow and smothered Bran with a pillow.”

Robb felt the vein in his neck pulse as he clenched his fists, “Jon is my brother and he did not kill Bran. I will not listen to you accuse him of murder when no murder was committed. Bran fell and died. I am sorry that you lost your son, but Jon did not murder him and Sansa was not wrong to ask Jon to sit with his brother to provide comfort. You have other children mother. You have me and Sansa. You have Arya and Rickon. You have a family. Bran would not want to see you push us away with your grief.”

“Get out,” Catelyn hissed. “Get out. I will not listen to you defend the life of the bastard who murdered my son and the woman who let him.”

Storming out of the tent, Robb clenched his fist as he returned to his own. He wanted to hurt something. He wanted to break something, but he had better self control than a five year old child. Sitting in the chair at the table, Robb covered his face with his hands. He’d never felt so hopeless. Not even on the first day that he’d been separated from Sansa. As awful as it had been, Robb had known that he would live through it, but this…he wasn’t sure how he could live having to choose between his mother and his siblings. Catelyn would make him choose eventually. She’d make him choose between Sansa and herself and it would possibly kill him because he didn’t know who he loved more, Sansa or Catelyn.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, complaints all welcomed. More to come and questions will be answered about Jon, Stannis, and Sansa's dragon blood!
> 
> Leave a comment!
> 
> PS - For anyone who is curious, Sansa is about 25 weeks pregnant right now and due in August...Melisandre is correct that on April 25, Sansa baby could be born but wouldn't live very long outside the womb without aid.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment! What'd you think???


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